Carry You Home
by Kateniss
Summary: With her father dying of kidney failure, Isabelle has no choice but to return to Charming and face the past she left behind eight years ago. As new complications and old demons arise, will Jax and Isabelle be able to put the shattered pieces of their lives back together? Story #3 in the "Carry Your Heart" series.
1. No Direction Home

The NICU floor at St. Thomas Hospital in Charming was surprisingly calm despite the fact that this was prime time for visiting hours. Nurses still hovered and checked in on their little patients, while flitting around with handfuls of charts and paperwork. Even if there had been more that just the faint chatter and shuffling of the nurses on duty, she still wouldn't have paid much attention to them or even heard them. All her focus was currently fixated on what lied just beyond the glass window and just out of her reach.

It had been awhile since Isabelle Martin had set foot inside a hospital. In her experience, hospitals didn't typically provide anything but pain, heartbreak, and loss, not to mention invasive doctors and nurses all up in your business. While her initial reason for entering St. Thomas was wildly different than where she found herself now, she was overwhelmingly grateful that hospitals could still provide something other than death, whether it be a physical death or a metaphorical one.

On occasion, they actually saved lives here, too. Imagine that.

And the baby resting just a few short feet away from her was deserving nothing short of the best life had to offer. She'd already heard the story from Gemma and as much as the details had stung, she couldn't stop herself from heading straight for this floor after checking in on her dad. Seeing it in person was worse than she ever could've imagined and the fact the underlying cause of her pain wasn't related to who this baby's parents were surprised her the most.

It was everything this beautiful, innocent baby had already suffered in his short life that made her heart swell and then shatter to pieces. A junkie mother who'd obviously used while she was pregnant. Born addicted to crank. Not one surgery immediately after birth, but two-the first to repair the hole in his heart, or, the "family flaw" as Gemma had called it over the phone, and the second had been to repair the hole in his stomach. And now, here he was, surviving in an incubator since coming out of surgery. At least, according to Gemma, Abel Teller wouldn't have to suffer in this hospital for too much longer because in only a few days, he would be able to go home.

She sighed, fighting the urge to lean her head against the glass for a closer look. He really was beautiful, even if she couldn't quite see his features that closely. Tears pricked her eyes and she had to bit her lip to keep them at bay. This wasn't her baby, she told herself firmly. This wasn't her place. And she had somewhere else that she really needed to be too.

Where she needed to be was at her dad's bedside, but that too, was almost too painful to bear. After a long road of rehabs and relapses, her dad's body had finally given out on him. While he'd fought it with everything he had left, the damage had already been done and his kidneys were failing. At this point, with all hope of a transplant gone, his doctor was pretty much just trying to keep him comfortable with heavy doses of painkillers, but after that, there wasn't much else that could be done.

It was only a matter of time, his nephrologist, Dr. Abbott, had told her. How much time still remained to be seen.

So, after getting the call from Dr. Abbott, she'd ravaged about her studio in LA to finish the last of the projects Bennett needed to launch the new gallery showing and pack up as much as she could from her condo to prepare for an unforeseen amount of time back in Charming.

While she'd needed three days to get everything in order so she wouldn't leave a mess for Bennett, there'd been a number of reasons she'd stalled an extra day and none of them made her feel any less guilty. Her dad needed her here, even if he wasn't really conscious for long enough to know she was there, and she'd waited to get here just because she was chickenshit.

Seeing her dad dying in a hospital bed was right up at the top of that list. He was virtually her only living blood relative and while their relationship had been strained at best over the past eight years, he was still her father and he still needed her here with him.

Then there had been the issue of what else, or rather, who else was still lingering in Charming. The few trips to town she'd agreed to over the years had been to neutral places like the cafe and Lumpy's Diner to meet Gemma and Donna for lunch and to check in on her dad. Whenever she had grudgingly agreed to meet at Donna's house, the only Reaper cut or motorcycle she'd seen had been Opie's. Luckily, Gemma and Donna didn't need to be told how difficult it was for her to come to Charming and often opted to make the drive to San Francisco and then, after she graduated from SFAI, to LA to see her. They made a weekend of it with Donna often bringing Ellie along and then Kenny, the most recent addition to the Winston family, when he was old enough.

She was grateful for the connection and even more grateful that she had never come face to face with the person she wanted to avoid the most.

Because now that she was here for an undetermined amount of time, there were only so many places she could hide. Eventually, they would cross paths. It was just as inevitable as her dad eventually succumbing to the damage he'd done to his body. Completely unavoidable. All she could do was prolong the eventual run-in.

Not like she was exactly doing herself any favors, given her current location.

Going to see Abel was just asking for trouble, even though Gemma had told her she was welcome to visit her new grandson whenever she wanted. Isabelle knew better and she knew Gemma well enough to know exactly what game she was playing at here.

And yet here she was anyways. Despite the pep talk she'd given herself on the five hour drive here in very LA-esque Toyota Prius, the gravitational pull was just too strong. All resistance had been futile the second she'd stepped through the revolving door at St. Thomas. While she had no right to be here and no right to look, she just couldn't help herself.

"Isn't that the most handsome little man you've ever seen?" An all-too familiar voice called out from behind her.

A faint smile touched Isabelle's lips before she turned to face the owner of that voice. Suddenly a wave of panic swept over her. If Gemma was here, there was a slight probability she wasn't alone. But when Gemma just held her hands up silently and then pulled her into a tight embrace, Isabelle felt herself release the breath she'd been holding.

She'd spent the last eight years trying to convince herself that the life she'd had in Charming was nothing but a distant memory. Now, with the evidence of this very real, very long passage of time right in front of her face, the memories, the pain, and the bitterness she'd fought so persistently to erase nagged at her like a scab that just wouldn't heal.

Gemma stepped up to the glass beside her and beamed into the glass like the proud new grandma she was. "My little man is bustin' outta here in three days...it couldn't come soon enough."

Isabelle nodded somberly, unsure of what else she was supposed to say. If she'd felt conflicted about standing here before, she could now add uncomfortable to that mounting list of emotions rumbling around.

After a few long moments of awkward silence, Gemma glanced wistfully at her from the corner of her eye. "I stopped by your dad's room on my way up here. When I didn't see you, I figured I'd find you here."

"I needed a break," Isabelle shrugged simply. "I guess I just ended up here."

Gemma sent a kind, reassuring smile and then squeezed her shoulder. "You know, honey, I know you and I both wish the circumstances were different, but I'm glad you're finally home."

Isabelle flinched inwardly at that particular word. Home wasn't something she had associated with Charming in a long time. Her studio in LA was home. Her condo in LA was home. Bennett was home. Cooper was home. She'd be hard-pressed to find much in Charming that she could truly affiliate with that particular noun. And then, as painful as it was, she knew she'd been standing here too long.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart?" Gemma was asking her now in a gentle voice. "Somethin' to eat? Coffee? Anything?"

She shook her head immediately as the overwhelming feeling that she'd overstayed her welcome in the NICU floor swept over her.

"No, Gemma," Isabelle replied hastily. "I'm good...thanks though. I think I should probably head back down to my dad's room."

"Any change?" Gemma asked quietly, her eyes shining with sympathy.

"Nope...I'm not even sure he knows I'm there."

Gemma shot her a sad smile. "I'm sure he does, sweetie."

There wasn't much she could say to that sentiment since she didn't really believe it.

"I'll stop by after my visit, okay?" Gemma offered comfortingly. "See if you need anything or wanna take a break?"

Yeah, that was probably for the best. She could only take sitting by that hospital bed for so long, which was exactly why she found herself in her current predicament. Whenever Gemma was done with her visit with her grandson, she was sure she'd be ready for a break.

By the time she was seated next to her dad's stiff, sleeping form, Isabelle was already feeling agitated and ready to get up and move around again. The sound of the machines pumping her dad with painkillers and essentially keeping him alive for the time being coupled with the deafening stillness of everything else in this room was quickly driving her crazy.

In a way, waiting for this parent to succumb to illness was a little bit easier than the first. With her mom, she'd always held on to the hope that something would sweep in and save the day, some experimental, miracle treatment that would kick the cancer right in the ass. Even at the end, Isabelle had had to believe there was a chance, especially when her mom outlived her initial expiration date.

But her dad was a different story. There was no hope. There would be no miracle treatment or eleventh hour kidney transplant. His body was just too damaged to support a transplant or the surgery necessary to make it happen, which didn't exactly make him an "ideal candidate", as Dr. Abbott had told her. It was almost easier to accept-that it was going to happen no matter what, that hopefully, sooner rather than later, he wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

Both her parents had essentially brought about their own ends. Her mother had been a lifelong smoker, so lung cancer was a strong probability. After her mother's death, her father had succumbed to severe clinical depression and self-medicated with hard liquor. A few stints in rehab and counseling couldn't undo years of consistent, brutalizing damage and Isabelle had long suspected that her father had had a drinking problem before her mother had ever gotten sick. Her death had just sent a man already spiraling out of control deeper and faster down the rabbit hole.

Maybe, when she was younger, optimism wasn't just wishful thinking. When she was 20, when her mom had first gotten sick, she hadn't yet suffered any major tragedies in her life. The idea that anything bad or even potentially fatal could happen to one of her parents, or to her for that matter, was completely out of the realm of possibility. Tragedies only happened to other people in her 20-year-old mind. Not to her family. Not to her.

Now, her 30-year-old self knew better and had learned that lesson the hard way.

This gloom-and-doom attitude wasn't exactly a new thing for her mentality. Her therapist had spent countless hours trying to get her to address that same attitude and explore how to bridge the gap between living the life of a victim and living the life of a survivor. There'd been little victories along the way, little tastes of what normal felt like again and sometimes, it was enough to carry her through days, sometimes even weeks before sinking back down into self-pity and bitterness.

Given her family history with mental illness, her therapist, Dr. Winters, didn't pull any punches. Sleeping pills only helped her night terrors on occasion, but she still took them as prescribed anyways. She'd had greater success with Zoloft, but having to take it sometimes just had the opposite intended effect. Popping an anti-depressant felt like having a dirty secret and Bennett was the only one she trusted enough to actually share that with.

There'd also been multiple steps for self-defense she'd taken, at the encouragement of Dr. Winters, and only three of those steps actually made her feel safer. One was tucked safely away in her purse, another in her muscle memory, and the other was probably rolling around the floor with Ellie and Kenny at this exact moment.

Regardless of the steps she'd taken to get well, she didn't really feel well. She had good days, sure, but those she could remember the bad days more frequently and more clearly. If anything, she'd just gotten better at perfecting the mask, of pretending that she was okay, that she was better. That wasn't to say that she hadn't, in fact, made some progress since when she'd sped out of Charming eight years ago. If anything, LA had been a million times healthier for her for a number of reasons, but there was only one reason she was really willing to talk about. LA had given her a sense of security Charming never could-in a city inhabited by millions of people, she could just blend in with the crowd unnoticed with no prying, watchful, or even sympathetic eyes. She could just go about her day and continue the pretense that everything was fine.

Dealing with it only kicked her survival instincts into high gear and she just shut down. She couldn't speak directly about what had happened to her without using metaphors or symbolism and it wasn't just the brutality she'd suffered at the hands of Jordan. Seeing Abel today had just brought all those feelings she'd buried right up to the surface again and she just couldn't do it. She just couldn't allow herself to focus on it for too long.

She was trying to move on with her life. Trying and failing miserably.

And so, with her father unconscious in a hospital bed beside her, she pulled her sketchbook out of her oversized purse and dove in. Sketching and painting were really the only forms of therapy that actually worked for her and it was here, and only here, that the demons manifested themselves, albeit safely on the page or the canvas.

Ironically, it was those very same demons and her inability to discuss them with anything other than canvas that had made her rich. Go figure.

On some level, it didn't seem right to profit from the pain that had essentially destroyed the life she'd thought she would have, but as Bennett liked to remind her, one had to make a living somehow. Her calling in life was painting and sketching, so she might as well use and abuse the muse that inspired her, even if it was forged in pain and anguish.

She had no idea how long she sat perched on an uncomfortable hospital chair, sketching furiously away in her sketchbook, when her phone buzzed loudly in her purse. With a sigh, she tossed her pencil down and groped for the phone.

_So my children now want a dog for Christmas. Thanks for nothing ;)_

Isabelle bit her lip to muffle her laughter after reading Donna's text and she quickly pounded out a response that she would swing by and pick Cooper up as soon as visiting hours were done. Her smile widened at the accompanying picture of Ellie and Kenny with their arms just barely able to wrap happily around her furry baby's massive neck.

She'd purposefully chosen the fattest, wrinkliest, and cutest black lab the breeder had, curtailing her subconscious need to avoid the yellow lab and golden retriever puppies, and Coop had certainly lived up to her initial expectations. And then some. That boy could certainly eat...and her anxiety and sleeplessness quickly improved with the arrival of this new man in her life. Coop made her feel safe in a way she hadn't felt in a long time and she wished more than anything that he could be here with her right now. But, it was just as well that he was running around and playing at the Winston house right now, where he was being 'baby-sat'.

"Hey, Isabelle," Gemma's soft voice called out behind her and she quickly shifted in her chair to send Gemma a faint smile.

"Hey, Gem."

Gemma stepped inside the room hesitantly and gestured with her head towards the bed where her dad lay. "How's he doin'?"

"The same," she just shrugged. "I'm glad you're here though...I could really use that coffee right about now."

Gemma's careful smile widened and she looked relieved to be of some use. "Long day, huh?"

"Yeah," Isabelle exhaled tiredly. "I think I've been here for what...six or seven hours already and that doesn't even include the drive or dropping Coop off by Donna and the kids this morning."

"Come on, let's take that break," Gemma smiled back at her, gesturing towards the door.

Caffeine was a much needed reprieve from not just her vigil at her dad's bedside, but from the dark thoughts slithering around her mind too. After the first few sips from her styrofoam coffee cup, she abruptly turned to Gemma, overwhelmed with gratitude that she wasn't alone right now.

"Gemma," she started softly. "I'm really glad you're here, too."

Gemma smiled back sadly before resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. They ended up making their way towards the business office so Isabelle could check on her dad's account before the office closed. He'd already been at St. Thomas for almost a week and she figured she might as well get started on that mess too while she was here.

"Hi, my name is Isabelle Martin," she told the attendant as they approached the desk. "My dad's been admitted here and I just wanted to see if I can maybe set-up a payment plan or something while I'm here."

The attendant nodded quickly and after a few simple questions like her dad's name and room number, punched a few keys and scanned the screen in front of her. A few moments later, the attendant was staring back at them with a confused expression on her face.

"It looks like your father's account has been zeroed out," the attendant told her in a bewildered voice.

At first, Isabelle wasn't sure she'd heard the woman right. "What do you mean it's been zeroed out?"

"I don't know," the woman sputtered anxiously.

"How is that possible?" Isabelle asked, leaning further over the counter in an effort to crane her next to get a look at the screen. "He's been here for four days already. That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, can you look back at the records?" Gemma interjected next to her. "See what the hell happened? There's gotta be some explanation…"

The woman clicked a few buttons and moved her mouse around. "Hmm...it's looks like the outstanding balance was paid yesterday."

Understanding and awareness slammed through her as her blood ran cold. Everything seemed to tense and she clenched her hands into a tight fist at the counter. At this point, she didn't really need the answer. She knew exactly who was responsible, but she still needed the confirmation.

"Who paid it?" Isabelle pushed out through clenched teeth.

The attendant glanced at her nervously and chewed on her bottom lip before finally answering: "Jackson Teller."

She heard Gemma's sharp intake of breath next to her, but she'd already expected to hear that name. Of course it was him. Of course he would swoop in and try to play the hero...but how dare he even think about shoving his way into something that had absolutely nothing to do with him? He had no right to step in that way. This was her responsibility alone, not his and the absolute last thing she wanted right now was his charity.

Her head whipped around at Gemma's anxious shuffling next to her. Gemma must have recognized the frustration and seething rage in her eyes because she quickly shot her hands out in front of her to deflect culpability.

"I swear I had no idea, Isabelle," she told her in a rushed breath. "He didn't tell me."

The panicked expression evident in Gemma's eyes told her she was probably telling the truth.

"What was the previous balance?" Isabelle asked calmly, diverting her attention back to the nervous attendant behind the desk.

"$4,575, ma'am," the attendant told her and that amount seemed about right. Given the machines currently attached to her dad and the medicine pumping through him, not to mention the nurses' and Dr. Abbott's watchful care, a little over $1000 day was probably spot-on.

"Thank you," Isabelle nodded to the attendant and started backing away from the counter. Gemma fell right into step with her and it was just better not to make eye contact. That woman could read her like a book and allowing her emotions to slip through her carefully constructed mask wasn't going to help her right now.

"Isabelle, I had no idea he was going to do that," Gemma told her hastily as they walked through the hospital's hallways. "If I'd known, I would've tried to talk him out of it-"

Isabelle whirled around to face the woman, who for all intents and purposes, was her mother now, and shook her head in disappointment. "You promised you wouldn't push, Gemma. You told me you'd leave it alone and wouldn't try to-"

"I didn't!" Gemma tried desperately to save face, but Isabelle wasn't buying it. "I just told him when you were coming back...that's it."

"Right," she blew out a frustrated breath. "Because _that_ wasn't the exact opposite of what I asked you to do."

Gemma hadn't exactly made it a secret that she was still harboring hope that somehow, someday she and Jax would be able to put the pieces back together. And despite the fact that any hope of that actually happening dwindled with each year that passed since she left Charming, Gemma still wouldn't give up. Because Isabelle knew exactly how Gemma's twisted little mind worked, she made Gemma promise to drop it when it became clear she'd have to come back to be with her dad. Gemma pushing and manipulating for them to get back together would only make having to be back in Charming that much harder and now it looked like it was just going to make her want to leave that much sooner.

"Look, Isabelle," Gemma told her quietly, having obviously realized her error. "He already knew you were coming back and he asked me for the exact day, so I told him. I didn't tell him anything else."

She didn't need to ruminate on how he'd already known, without Gemma's interference, but it was no accident that her dad's hospital bill had been zeroed out the day before she arrived.

"What are you gonna do now?"

Although it was the exact opposite of what she really wanted, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from confronting Jax about this massive invasion of both her and her father's privacy. It wasn't even really about the money; it was his intention, whatever it was, that frustrated her. Why, after all this time, did he suddenly feel the need to reach out, even if it was indirectly? Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"I'm gonna go talk to your son about giving handouts to people who don't need it," Isabelle answered coolly. "It's kind of insulting."

"Isabelle," Gemma chided gently. "I don't think that's what this was about-"

"Well, he needs to stay the hell out of shit that doesn't concern him," she snapped back. "So he and I are gonna have to talk about that after I give him his money back."

"So what, you're just gonna storm over there like a bat outta hell and make demands?" Gemma laughed lightly with a shake of her head.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Big, Bad President will be able to make time for me."

Gemma eye's widened when she realized that she was actually serious about this. "You told me yourself that you don't wanna see him while you're here, so now you're just gonna go barging over there your first day back in town?"

Her words gave Isabelle pause and her steps towards the parking lot halted. Shit, she was right. Storming over to the clubhouse wasn't exactly on her list of things to do while she was in Charming.

"Isabelle, I don't think it's what you think it is," Gemma was saying now quietly. "He knew you'd be in town today and did you see him at the hospital? No...honey, he kept his distance. I think that says the exact opposite of all the conclusions you're jumping to right now. I think he was just tryin' to help you."

Well, that was probably true. Even if his intention wasn't to ambush her, he could've come to visit Abel with Gemma today knowing they could run into each other...which they most certainly would have. Instead, he'd paid her dad's hospital bill the day before she arrived.

"Honey, I think you should really think about this here…" Gemma went on. "Go back to your dad's tonight, get some sleep, and see how you feel about it in the morning and if you still wanna talk to him about it, stop by the clubhouse on your way back to the hospital."

That wasn't a terrible idea; in fact, it was actually pretty rational. It made sense. And showing up at the clubhouse all worked up wasn't going to be good for anybody. She didn't want to fight with him; she just wanted to clear out her debt and then go back to minding her own business.

She'd felt relaxed about this resolution right up until the next morning, when she was getting ready to leave her dad's house. Even with Coop curled up right next to her, she'd suffered through another near-sleepless night. She'd rolled out of bed feeling dazed and forcing herself into Jax's orbit only a short time later wasn't exactly appealing. Being back in the house only brought back more unpleasant memories and maybe heading towards the clubhouse that same morning wasn't such a great idea.

But as the day went on, her masochistic tendencies started to creep through her decision. Today was Friday. If they still followed tradition, which she was sure they did even with Jax at the helm, they would have Church and then the after-Church party. If she showed up at the clubhouse after the hospital's visiting hours ended, she'd show up right in the middle of the party. Gemma would certainly advise her against this; hell, her therapist would certainly advise her against this. But the part of her that wanted to see just how much had changed, if anything, was starting to win the day. Part of her wanted to see just what state she would find Jax in. And part of her wanted to surprise the hell out of him by showing up unannounced and without any warning from his mother.

She wanted to see the president's reaction to her, but she wasn't about to ruminate on what, exactly, she was hoping to see.

* * *

Oh God. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. What the hell was she thinking? The entire parking lot was crammed full with an alarming assortment of muscle cars and motorcycles, with her little pearly-white Prius sorely out of place. No good could possibly come of this and yet she was still here in the parking lot, her knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel, trying to summon the strength to open the door.

Something about this felt too familiar and she had to swallow hard to push it all down. She was here now, and even though there was still plenty of time to just turn the ignition and back the hell out of the parking lot before anyone saw her, she knew it was still too late. The clubhouse was like a siren, beaconing to her to come and see what awaited her inside. Besides, she'd purposefully refreshed her hair and makeup before leaving the hospital. Dressed in black leggings, a loose fitting white tank-top, her favorite black moto jacket, and patent leather booties, she certainly looked the part of belonging in both LA and the clubhouse.

Pulling down the visor to look in the mirror, she ran a finger underneath her right eye to catch some wayward flaked mascara and fluffed her short, blonde hair. Just enough scrunch with the longer pieces in the front skimming her shoulders to look messy and effortless. It was good enough for her. And there was no way she was going to sit here and contemplate why she'd primped and polished before showing up at the clubhouse tonight.

With a deep breath, she pushed all her misgivings and insecurities aside and pushed open the door. Her feet somehow carried her through the parking lot and all the way to the clubhouse's main entrance. The pounding music was now screaming in her ears, but that didn't even compare to the cacophony of voices coming from inside. Had it always been like this and she'd just forgotten? Or was the clubhouse just more packed than usual?

She didn't wait to find out the answer, choosing instead to push through the door before she lost her nerve. The length of time she'd been away from the clubhouse didn't wash away how familiar all this felt. From the blaring beats of Rage Against the Machine, the scantily-clad women toting beers back and forth from the bar, those same scantily-clad women hanging over any cut they could get their hands on, the staggered walking and slurred whoops and hollers...it was all a little too familiar. Stale beer and weed wafted from even the pores in the walls and a blanket of thick cigarette smoke permeated the air.

So, in other words, nothing had really changed.

However, it was a little more crowded than she remembered. Bodies were even pushed up all the way to front walls of the clubhouse and it was all she could do to just push through a few feet to get deeper inside. Her eyes scanned the mass of bodies crowding the floor and figured she was better off just grabbing the first Reaper cut she could find rather than aimlessly pushing her way through the crowd. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long when a young guy with short curly hair pushed past her with an armful of empty beer bottles. All she needed to see was the black leather on his back.

"Hey!" she cupped her hands around her mouth to call out to him. When he kept moving, probably unable to hear her over the pounding music, she was able to grasp hold of his shoulder long enough to get his attention.

He shot her an exasperated expression before his eyes traveled up and down the length of her appreciatively. Instead of acknowledging his obvious, and completely pointless attention, Isabelle chose to just roll her eyes.

"I need to talk to Jax," she yelled to him over the music. "Do you know where he is?"

His brows drew together in confusion and he looked her up and down one more time before shrugging his shoulders with the bottles still in his arms. "Depends on who's lookin' for him."

Seeing she was getting nowhere with this guy, she put her hands on her hips defensively and frowned. "Look, I _really_ need to talk to him. Can you help me out a little bit here?"

The guy's eyes darkened and as his shoulders squared to face her, she could clearly see "prospect" stitched across the upper left on his cut. He lifted up his shoulders to emphasize the bottles in his arms. "I'm a little busy here, darlin'. You might as well just get in line if you wanna talk to the boss tonight."

She winced a little as her words echoed through her own ears and she knew exactly what she sounded like-a fucking croweater that wanted a turn with the most powerful man in the room-but she'd all but brought it on herself. He was probably used to fielding similar requests and as he turned to leave her in his dust, she abruptly called out to him, not wanting to be left alone in the throngs of drunk party guests.

"Wait!" Isabelle cried out, shooting her arms out to stop him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a bitch...it's just been a really, really long day. Can I start over?"

The prospect stared at her impatiently and shifted the bottles in his arms. She took that as her sign to press onward.

"I'm Isabelle," she started, raising her voice loud enough for him to hear. "And I'd really like to-"

His eyebrows flew into his forehead and his eyes widened the size of saucers. "Holy shit-_you're_ Isabelle?" The bottles in his arms wobbled dangerously as he scrambled to free a hand for her to shake. "I'm so, so sorry...shit, I can't believe I...Jesus."

He stammered like that for a few more moments while Isabelle tried to figure out what in the hell was going on here. It was right on the tip of her tongue to ask how and why this prospect, who she'd never seen at the clubhouse eight years ago, seemed to know who she was, but immediately pushed those thoughts away. It was probably better not knowing anyways.

"So you are…" she dangled that in front of him, hoping to move this along already.

The prospect bumbled the bottles in his arms before a few tumbled out of his grasp and crashed to the floor. He abruptly turned on his heel and shoved the remaining bottles onto the closest table he could find, ignoring the protests of the people sitting around it, and hastily crouched down to survey his mess. When Isabelle knelt down to try to help him, his face filled with panic and he waved her away.

"No, oh God, please don't help me...if anybody saw you, they'd kill me," he rose up to his feet and immediately looked over his shoulder before swallowing tightly. "My name's Kip by the way; everyone calls me Half-Sack though."

She cocked an eyebrow at the admittedly intriguing nickname and he just waved it off.

"I was, uh, in Afghanistan and, um, well…"

"So," she cut in quickly. "It's nice to meet you, Kip...um, can you help me find Jax?"

"Uh...um…" Kip glanced anxiously over his shoulder and grimaced, running a hand over his face. "Sorry, I'm just tryin' to figure out the best way to not get my ass kicked. Look, why don't you just sit tight and I'll get him, tell him you're here, and then bring him over here, okay?"

While she couldn't quite put together what about all this would exactly get him in trouble with Jax or the rest of the club, she could see the logic in his plan. Jax had no idea she was here and essentially, _she_ was the one ambushing _him_. Obviously, the prospect was going to look out for his president and give him ample warning to collect himself. Maybe that was for the best anyways.

So, she just nodded silently as Kip quickly backed away, holding out his hands to wordlessly tell her to stay where she was. It was clear these orders needed to be taken seriously and she didn't move as her eyes followed Kip's retreating form through the thick crowd. Craning her neck to get a better look, she watched Kip push his way through until he stopped right in front of what had to be the pool table.

Bravely daring a few steps closer, her breath stopped short in her throat when she caught sight of that all-too-familiar blonde head.

Eight years later and just one glimpse of him could still send every single one of her senses into overdrive. And for a moment, she almost tripped right over her own feet in an effort to get closer. As he came into clearer view, the immediate changes in his appearance were about all she could focus on.

His hair was significantly darker, but she could still see blonde streaks near the ends of his slicked back style. The scruff she'd long been accustomed to was still there, but now had matured into a lazy, slightly grown out blonde goatee. Maybe the biggest change was the toothpick that rested between his lips instead of the ever-present cigarette.

Everything about him seemed older, wiser, harder, and more mature. He was still just as handsome as he'd been eight years ago, but at 22, the boyish, youthful charm had been right at the forefront. Now, all of that had been replaced with the lethal and magnetic lure of a man.

She was completely fucked.

It was all she could do to just watch Kip amble over to where Jax stood. Jax barely seemed to acknowledge Kip's presence and when he approached, Jax tilted his head just enough to hear what she was sure Kip was telling him. The movements were almost regal, like the king of the clubhouse being addressed by one of his minions.

Although Gemma had been scarce with the details, she was very aware of how Jax had risen through the ranks of Samcro at lightning speed. Within a year of her exodus from Charming, Piney stepped down and Jax slid into the role of VP. Four years later, war had erupted between the Sons and the Grim Bastards, for what she wasn't sure, and after Clay was gunned down in a drive-by shooting, Jax was named Acting President until Clay could heal. The war seemed to have ended just as abruptly as it began, despite leaving many Grim Bastard bodies in their wake, and peace finally settled over the gangs in NoCal. Clay's injuries had significantly weakened his already declining body and even though, as Gemma was quick to point out, he could still ride and therefore still vote, he opted to step down and permanently handover the reigns to Jax with Opie as his new VP. Jax had finally fulfilled his father's legacy and reached his destiny. And, it seemed, he was relishing it. He certainly looked the part now too.

But the second Kip stopped speaking, the king's cool composure turned on a dime. The beer bottle he'd been bringing to his lips froze mid-air and his eyes bugged out of his head for only a moment, but it was a moment long enough for her to see the reaction she hadn't realized she'd been waiting for. Her presence in the clubhouse clearly affected him and it remained to be seen if it was going to be a positive or a negative reaction.

What the hell was she doing? She shouldn't be doing this right now and she definitely shouldn't be wringing her hands over how he was going to react to seeing her. This was the exact opposite of what she'd told herself she was here in Charming to do: watch her dad die, bury him, and get the house ready to sell. That was it. That was all she had to do. And here she was, not even back in town for a full 48 hours, and she was already back inside the clubhouse. This was definitely one of the dumber ideas she'd had in a very, very long time.

Just as Jax's eyes started to frantically scan the crowd around him, a bleached-blonde with bad extensions slinked up to him and attempted to wrap an arm around his neck. Barely acknowledging the girl, Jax just side-stepped around her and ducked out of her reach. Kip said something again and the girl's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing dangerously to survey the crowd before adjusting her slinky, skin-tight dress. Isabelle was about 99.9 percent sure that dress was really intended to be a tube top.

But she didn't even have time to feel a tingle of green-eyed rage because Jax was already headed straight for her. The sea of people parted to let the king pass and it wasn't long before she was directly in his line of vision. His jaw clenched tightly and his Adam's apple jumped up and down before closing the distance between them.

Frozen to the floor like a deer in headlights, there was nothing she could do but watch as Jax, with his impassive, cool expression, stopped directly in front of her.

His lips curled into that lop-sided, sexy smirk that once had the power to make all feeling in her legs just disappear. Oh shit.

"Hey, Iz," he murmured as his hand reached up to smooth his slicked back hair.

All ability to speak left her and something achingly familiar unraveled and twisted inside her stomach, rooting all the way down to finally rest in between her legs.

Yep. She was completely and totally screwed.

* * *

At first, Jax wasn't sure that Isabelle had actually heard him. The clubhouse was louder and packed more tightly than usual Friday nights, so it wasn't entirely unreasonable to guess that she might not have heard him. But the dazed, bewildered expression in her deep blue eyes told him something else and he found himself suddenly worried that she might just up and bolt on him before he even had a chance to really talk to her.

Her beautiful mouth dropped open and then abruptly closed shut. She bit down nervously on her bottom lip and he would've given anything to reach out to her, even if it was only to just lightly graze the leather on her arm.

She swallowed tightly and then finally, he heard the voice that had only found him in his dreams, and sometimes, in his nightmares.

"Hi Jax."

He fought the urge to close his eyes at the sound and instead, stared back at her intently, willing her to keep talking. Anything just to keep her here a little bit longer. Anything just to be able to see her for a little bit longer.

"Can I talk to you?" she was asking now and he didn't hesitate to nod immediately.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he figured the only real shot they had at some privacy was outside the clubhouse in TM's office. Taking her back through the crowded clubhouse was just a bad idea any way he looked at it...and where would he take her? His dorm? The chapel? None of those were really options, at least not with her, so the best he could do was gesture with his head towards the main exit, especially since he had a pretty good idea what she wanted to talk to him about.

They fell into step together once the breezy California air brushed up against them and an uneasy silence followed. She seemed to be looking anywhere but at him, and right now her focus was staring intently at the new siding by the office. In a way, he was almost grateful for the silence and for her seemingly inability to even glance his way, because now, he could fully and completely take her in.

At first glance, he almost hadn't recognized her. Her cropped blonde hair, with the front a little longer than the back, made him just want to run his fingers through it to see if it was still as soft as he remembered. The tight black leggings coupled with her leather heels and leather jacket had his mouth watering dangerously and he had to swallow back the desire for just one taste. But there was something else too that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something different. Something almost harder about her that hadn't been there before.

The years they'd spent apart had only served to make her more painfully gorgeous and even though every second he spent watching her stung, he still couldn't pull his eyes away from her. No, he had to drink her in. Every move. Every breeze that fluffed up her hair. The way she nervously clenched her hands around the straps of her huge purse. Fuck, those leather heels. There was just a hint of her toes peeking through the tip and it was all he could do to awkwardly adjust himself at the thought of those slim, muscular legs and those fucking heels wrapped around his waist.

He just couldn't help himself and he'd been deprived of her for far too long.

There was no other reaction he could have to seeing her again after an eight-year absence. She was like balm to an open wound and suddenly, even though she'd only been within reaching distance for less than five minutes, the anxiety and the underlining fear of what would happen when they actually came face to face again just vanished.

She was here. She wanted to talk to him. And right now, that was all that mattered. Not the fact that he was currently in the process of finally getting Samcro free of guns, not the fact that he had a two-month-old son in an incubator, not the fact that his son's junkie bitch of a mother had nearly killed him, not the fact that his son was coming home in less than a week, not the fact that Wendy was crying to him about parental rights even though she had none, and not the fact that his son's mother wasn't Isabelle.

None of that was on his radar right now. All that mattered was that he was holding the office door open for Isabelle and she was stepping through so they could talk.

She shuffled a few feet inside and he hit the light switch before rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans anxiously. With her back still to him, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts or strength or maybe she was just taking in all the memories that went along with this place. Either way, it gave him a few moments to stare appreciatively at her ass. Yeah, he'd been starved for way too long.

Suddenly, her hand abruptly dove inside her purse, pulled out a piece of paper, and then she spun around to thrust it out to him. His fingers closed around it blindly and it wasn't until he glanced down at it that he realized she'd just handed him a check for the exact amount he'd paid at the hospital two days before.

"Look, Jax," she started softly. "I appreciate what you were trying to do for my dad, but I can't let you pay his bills."

He just shook his head and held the check back out to her. "I didn't do it for him."

The truth didn't seem to sit well with her and she flinched violently at his words, but he couldn't deny that he hadn't had any real intention of helping her dad. All he'd wanted to do was help her, to do something that would make this easier for her because he was very aware that she hadn't wanted to come back.

There were no hidden agendas. No secret plans to manipulate her. He'd honestly just wanted to help and now, his position within the club gave him the means to do so without even thinking about it.

She pushed out an exasperated breath and perched an arm on her hip. "I don't need your charity, Jax."

His eyes narrowed and he couldn't stop the annoyance from crossing his face. She was still just as stubborn as she'd always been.

"I can pay my dad's bills on my own, Jax," Isabelle bit out and took a step back to put some more distance between them, which only made him instinctively move closer.

"I know you can," he conceded softly. "I just wanted to do something to help, I guess. I didn't have any other way."

He held the check back out to her again and when she furiously shook her head, he just shrugged and sent the check spiraling down onto the couch to his left.

"So, I take it you're not taking my money?"

His lips twisted into an amused smirk and he shoved his hands leisurely in his pockets. "No, Iz, I'm not takin' your money."

Isabelle shook her head again, staring exasperatedly up at the ceiling before settling an icy gaze directly on him. "You had no right to do that, Jax...I don't know what you think you're doing, but please...just stay out of my business, okay?"

Maybe he didn't have the right and maybe he should've just left her dad's hospital bill alone, but as hard as he tried, he knew someway or another, he would've just gravitated to her anyways. And even though his intention hadn't been to force her hand and a subsequent confrontation, he couldn't say he was sorry about that particular turn of events.

"Well," he shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say, Iz. It's done."

Her eyes narrowed darkly and if he hadn't noticed it before, the change in her was even more evident. Eight years was a long time to spend away from someone who'd had an irrevocable impact on your life and the changes in both of them were just collateral damage now. The cold edge in her eyes and in her voice signalled that she was not happy to see him and she did not want to spend anymore time in his presence than necessary.

Not that he blamed her.

"I guess there's nothing left to say then," she exhaled softly and brushed some hair away from her eyes.

He was fascinated with the way the layers curved around her face, accentuating her beautiful features, and this was just one more change he hadn't been aware of. The last time he'd seen her was six years ago and even though she'd been blissfully unaware of his presence, he'd memorized every movement, every laugh, every gesture for safekeeping. By then, she'd gone from red to blonde again, but he could've sworn he saw pink streaks peeking out through her long layers. This new short look just made her look more mature, but in a good way. Everything about her matched up perfectly with the life of an artist in LA and she wore it well. Fuck, she looked good.

"I should let you get back to the party," Isabelle was saying now, barely above a whisper and when she started moving past him to get to the door, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to stop her.

The moment their hands touched, Isabelle jumped as if something had jolted her and abruptly tore her hand out of his reach. His hand immediately dropped back down to his side, but he wasn't sorry he did it. He was just sorry his touch affected her so negatively.

"Iz," he exhaled and his heart twisted when her eyes finally met his. "You don't have to leave. Come back to the clubhouse for a drink or somethin'...I'll keep my distance, I promise. But you don't have to leave just yet."

She huffed bitterly and just shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Jax."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Maybe not, but you could still hang out here for awhile if you wanted to...unwind, whatever you wanna do."

At least point, he was willing to say just about anything if it meant she would stay for a little longer.

She just shook her head again sadly. "I should go."

Swallowing back his defeat, all he could do was nod and watch her walk out the door one more time. He lifted a hand in an awkward wave and she shot him a pained smile before turning on those goddamned heels and walking further into the parking lot.

His eyes followed her all the way until she pulled out of the parking lot-and was she driving a fucking Prius now?-and then when her taillights were completely out of sight, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his face. While he'd been holding out unfounded hope that they would cross paths while she was back in Charming, he'd had no idea it would be this soon...or this excruciatingly difficult.

Eight years held an almost insurmountable pile of shit and distance and he wasn't naive enough to think they could just pick up where they'd left off the morning she left Charming. He wasn't sitting here waxing poetic about second chances at love or how his world revolved around her, but he wasn't going to pretend that less than ten minutes in her presence had only served as a painful reminder of how much he still loved her. Of how much he would always love her.

And as he sank down into the couch and his head fell into his hands, he had absolutely zero idea of how he was going to survive these next few weeks, months, or however long she was going to be in town.

He was completely and totally screwed.

* * *

**A/N-So, I know this was pretty long, but it needed to be in order to establish where Jax and Isabelle are at. We got a little more insight into where Isabelle is in this chapter and Jax's mentality will be explained in the next chapter. Also, I know whether or not Jax and Wendy are married is probably your biggest question right now and that, too, will be explained in the next chapter. Feel free to take some guesses in your reviews though ;)**

**I wasn't going to have them actually have their conversation in this chapter, but after Tuesday's finale, I felt like I had to put it in there. While they're both damaged by both the events that led to Isabelle's departure from Charming and by the time they spent apart, I'm sure you guys know that everything that wend down in "Carry You With Me" wasn't for nothing. Those events changed them and shaped the adults they became and I'm really looking forward to working through all the ground they need to make up before they can ever find their way back to each other. So, that being said, this story will echo "Carry Your Heart"'s slow burn-it's not going to be easy and it's going to take time, but hopefully, it'll be worth it. **

**I can't wait to hear all your thoughts/predictions/comments because I know so many of you were looking forward to this installment just as much as I am. Please let me know what you think! Thanks again to everyone who's stuck with this from the very beginning and to those who've found it along the way!**


	2. Chasing Ghosts

The couch creaked and groaned, worn in from years of use, when Jax finally pushed up on his feet. Isabelle had been gone for at least ten minutes now and he still hadn't recovered from the initial shock of seeing her. It was like a ghost had suddenly materialized right before his eyes, one who'd only haunted his dreams and his nightmares before tonight.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of his last dream about her washed over him. Just the night before, he'd tossed and turned in his dorm at the clubhouse before finally falling into a restless sleep. Surrounded by nothing but penetrating darkness, Isabelle's tear-stained face called out to him and reached for him while some unseen force pulled her just out of his reach. No matter what he did, how fast he ran, how loud he screamed for her, or how hard he tried, he just couldn't get to her before the darkness tore her away completely.

Waking up in a cold sweat, he'd laid in bed for the rest of the night. This wasn't the first dream he'd had about her and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Sometimes, he was walking down the sidewalk, steadily approaching her, and calling out to her, but she still passed right by him without even making eye contact. Another dream was particularly unsettling: just her battered, bruised, and bloodied body handcuffed to a headboard. Some nights, the only thing he could see clearly was the tears streaming down her face. Other nights, she was glaring at him. And the worst night of all, he'd watched himself handcuff her to the headboard himself, despite her screaming and struggling to fight him off.

On the few nights that nightmares didn't haunt his sleep, he'd see just flashes of her smile, her hair, her laughing...just her being happy. There'd been a few dreams of her writhing underneath him in ecstasy and sighing his name. Everytime he had that particular dream, though, it was always followed up by her screaming his name in agony.

And just like every morning after he'd dreamt of her, he awoke with a panicked start, frantically searching the room for her. Nothing had been able to shake that feeling of desperate helplessness and he'd carried it with him all throughout the rest of the day, feeling off-balance and nearly out of his mind. But the second Isabelle appeared in his line of vision inside the walls of the clubhouse, it was like everything else just fell away. Just being within reaching distance of her again snapped a few of the missing pieces right back into place again.

Part of him wished it hadn't been so instantaneous...because what the fuck was he supposed to do when she just left Charming again?

While he had no hope of ever forgetting her, nor did he want to, it was easier to go about his day, and his life for that matter, knowing she was in LA and out of reach. Now, she'd been right in front of him and when he'd reached for her, she'd tore her hand away like she'd been burned. That interaction was well-earned and well-deserved on his part, but that didn't make it hurt any fucking less.

Close proximity was a real bitch.

His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to dig into his back pockets for a cigarette, but he dug for a piece of Nicorette gum instead and popped it into his mouth.

So far, this whole non-smoking thing wasn't as terrible as he'd thought it was going to be. Having a two-month-old son in an incubator, who was probably going to have health problems for most of his life, was all the motivation he needed to finally kick the habit right in the ass. Cold turkey had fucking sucked but when Opie silently slid him a pack of Nicorette gum, that little sleeve of tinfoil had saved him from slipping back down the rabbit hole. Now, he carried a little pack with him wherever he went, determined to create the healthiest environment he could for his son.

It was amazing how much his outlook on life had changed in the last two months. Having a son and coming to terms with being responsible for that son, had opened up something inside him he'd long thought had died the day Isabelle left Charming. He'd honestly never believed he could love anyone else as much as he loved her...and then Abel was born.

He shook his head with a light laugh as he pushed through the office door and took a sharp left to walk behind the clubhouse. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surrounded by a packed roomful of prying eyes. Those close enough to the situation knew well enough to leave him alone, but he didn't think he'd be able to take anyone else asking stupid questions without putting his fist through someone's face. Not exactly model president behavior. Besides, his party mood had vaporized tonight the second he'd locked eyes with Isabelle.

So, he was better off just calling it a night and was texting Opie as much when he realized a pair of long legs in sky-high stilettos was propped up against the door to his dorm. Inwardly groaning, he fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Ima was another bad habit he'd been trying to shake with various degrees of success. Getting the club completely out of guns meant securing other legitimate ways to earn and one of those ways had involved investing in Cara Cara, Luann Delaney's porn company. From a business standpoint, it'd been one of the best financial decisions he'd ever made for the club. The money was just pouring in and the more they could expand that empire, the closer Samcro came to being able to stand on solid ground without profits from gun running. His biggest mistake had been letting Ima Tite anywhere near his dick.

Because once she'd gotten in, getting her out was like trying to kill a cockroach. The fucker just wouldn't die.

"Hey, baby," Ima purred as he approached the door. "I've been lookin' for you."

He sighed heavily, digging into his back pocket for his keys, and gestured impatiently with his head for her to get out of his way. "Find someone else to fuck around with, Ima. Outta my way."

Her bottom lip jutted out in an annoying pout and she reached up grab out of the labels of his leather cut, which he promptly batted away. "Come on, Jax. Somethin' wrong? I'll make it better, baby."

Ima's hand drifted lower before firmly closing around the front of his jeans and he jolted away from her and out of her grasp.

"Jesus Christ!" he spat. "What part of 'get out of my way' do you not understand?"

Her eyes narrowed into dangerous black slits and he had half a mind to shove her ass down the hall. She took a brave step forward and crossed her arms over her chest, positioning her cleavage right into his line of vision just for good measure. If that was bait, he sure as fuck wasn't biting.

"What's wrong with you?" Ima demanded hotly and moved to block his path. "You didn't have a problem with me gettin' on my knees for you last weekend...what the fuck, Jax?"

This time, he didn't attempt to hide the way his eyes lifted to the ceiling. When the club partnered with Luann a year ago, Ima was already the label's hottest seller and number-one star. He hadn't minded her attentions then, especially after he found out Wendy was pregnant, but her stage-five clinger act had gotten old fast. Fortunately for them both, he didn't care enough about her to set her straight. He'd been steadily growing more aggressive in avoiding her and she hadn't gotten the hint for the last three months, but it was hard to argue when his dick was already in her hand and her mouth was descending. Now, with Abel almost ready to come home and Isabelle back in town, he had zero intention of letting Ima near his dick ever again.

So, to reiterate what she was still having problems comprehending, he huffed loudly and pushed past her. "Last I checked, darlin', you were takin' it from behind on camera by a black guy with strap-on. I think the better question is why the fuck you think I have to answer to you."

Ima just stepped directly into his path again and right in the doorway of his dorm, effectively blocking his entrance. If he moved any further, she would be inside his dorm and fuck if that was happening.

"Who was that girl you were talkin' to before?" Ima countered, standing firmly in his way.

His lips curled back into a snarl and as he glared icily back at her, menacing awareness filled her black, heavily-lined eyes.

"It was _her_, wasn't it?" her icy, accusatory voice found him.

And...if he wasn't done with her before now, he certainly was now. Advancing on her with lightning speed, his hand snapped out to close around her upper arm in iron-like vise. With one, swift motion, he viciously yanked her out of his doorway and sent her plummeting into the wall. He didn't even turn to see her catch herself just in time.

A beat later, he spun around on his heel and had her pinned up against the wall before she could protest.

"Let's get this straight right now," he murmured bitingly through clenched teeth. "You stay the fuck outta my business. Now, I know Cara Cara needs you on the label to earn, so I'm willin' to let this go for now. But if you get in my way again, I'm not gonna be so nice next time. Got it, darlin'?"

Ima nodded vigorously and he abruptly released her, pushing her out of his way. Then he stalked back to his dorm and slammed the door shut behind him just to send one last message. Part of him was tempted just to call Luann right now and tell her Ima was off their payroll, but unfortunately, their agreement maintained that she continue to oversee the creative end, while Samcro take over the business end. So, by all accounts, he'd be reneging on their agreement if he just up and fired Luann's best girl. That kind of move was bad for business and bad for the club, and so, he had to rein himself in when it came to Ima.

As much as he wanted to tell Ima to go fuck herself completely, Luann had warned him that pissing Ima off wasn't going to help anybody. Still, that didn't mean he was just going to lay down and let the bitch walk all over him. He understood that they needed to keep her moderately happy so she stayed with Cara Cara and didn't run to one of the competing companies, but there was a line and the porn whore was toeing that fucking line.

That bitch was getting a little too comfortable here in the clubhouse and clingy possessiveness wasn't attractive on anyone, especially her.

With a heavy sigh, he sank to his bed and rubbed both ringed hands across his face. He rested an elbow on his right knee as his eyes immediately roamed to where they always did. Equal parts torture and comfort all wrapped up in two pretty packages. He pushed up roughly on both feet and stalked over to the wall next to his bed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he surveyed the sketch Isabelle had done of his bike so long ago.

Jesus, had it really been almost nine years since she'd given this to him? He could clearly remember the anxiousness and shyness on her face as she gingerly slid the folded up pieces of paper over to him the day after he'd first learned the real circumstances surrounding her dad's condition. Now, that same sketch was carefully pinned to his wall with the yellowed edges fraying a little on the sides.

Even then, before she'd had any real training, her talent shone right through on the page. The lines, the shading...the limited understanding he had of her craft told him she was naturally gifted and deserved all of the success and growing fame she was achieving. Now, as his eyes shifted to the canvas next to the sketch, he could see her evolution as an artist with clear, completely awed eyes.

Although part of him had felt it was invasive, if not a little stalkerish, to have Juice keep tabs on her career, it was only a tiny part. He had to know. It was impossible for him to just let it go. So, he'd been unable to keep himself away for her very first professional gallery showing in LA. He'd shown up right in the middle of the event and had succeeded in getting lost in the crowd. Despite his initial misgivings and feeling like he was infringing on her privacy, he was immediately swept away by the walls covered in her work.

Piece after piece slammed into him and he was all but motionless in the gallery, just taking it all in. The reality of her success was exhilarating-she'd done it. She'd become everything he always knew she would and it was clear from the buzz and chatter around him that this first showing was definitely not going to be the last. When his roaming eyes finally settled on her, that exhilaration sputtered and died in his throat.

Even with her back to him, he would've known her anywhere. Her long hair-now blonde again-fell down to her back in loose, pretty waves and he could've sworn he caught streaks of pink hidden in between her curls too. With her lean curves hugging a black knee-length strapless dress and he allowed himself that moment to drink her in. She was laughing at something an admiring guest had just told her and the happiness and triumph in her glittering blue eyes was unmistakable, even from across the room.

It was then that he realized he would never get to approach her or even talk to her like that nameless person just had. He would never get to bask in his happiness at her success or stand proudly next to her while guest after guest complimented her work. Instead, he was stuck hiding in the background.

So, after Bennett had spied him and pulled him aside before Isabelle could see them talking together, Jax had purchased the painting he'd been standing in front of and left.

That was the only gallery showing he'd gone to and the only one of her professional paintings he owned. On some level, it felt wrong to keep trailing after her like that and, he figured, he was really only playing with fire if he kept going. Sooner or later, she'd see him and he was pretty sure that would ruin her night. He didn't want to ruin anything for her anymore. So, he'd kept Juice on her career and every once and awhile, he'd find pictures of Isabelle's newest gallery showing or a news article about her under the door of his dorm. He'd saved all of it, but had pushed it as far back into his closest as he could.

He just wanted her to be happy. He just wanted her to be okay...but from the little he'd seen of her tonight, he couldn't exactly say she was either of those things right now. Maybe it had everything to do with her dad's rapidly declining health, but he had a feeling there was more going on with her than just that. There was something in her eyes that alarmed him, something that told him she was far from okay. Something haunted. Something missing. And the worst part of all was there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't take consolation in the fact that he wasn't exactly happy either. That wasn't to say that the birth of his son hadn't irrevocably altered his life for the better. But other than Abel, his life was filled with an emptiness he'd never in a million years admit out loud. Sure, the club was on the right track and with every new business connection he made, he was one step closer to getting his brothers away from the danger gun running brought them. If anything, it was a comfort to know that by the time Abel was old enough to be active in the club, this would all just be a page in the club's long history.

But the actual act of being president wasn't one he necessarily enjoyed. Making the tough calls and being the one everyone depended on to make those tough calls wasn't exactly a fun job to have. While the pay increase that came with the job certainly helped, given the hospital bills Abel had already collected in his short life, he still couldn't help but feel empty when it came to this new role.

It was the lingering missing piece that had kept him from settling down completely. He was 30 years old and had an infant son that was just days away from coming home from the hospital, but it wasn't complete.

Maybe that was why he'd rebuffed any attempt Wendy had initially made to talk him into marriage.

At first, he'd seen her as just another croweater looking to become a Son's old lady. He'd had experience with her before right after Tara left and could remember, with complete clarity, the day he'd seen Wendy at the clubhouse and had high-tailed it back to his house and back to Isabelle. That was the same day Isabelle had told him she was pregnant. He flinched painfully at the memory of that day and of everything that had followed.

After Isabelle left, he wasn't surprised by the slew of croweaters practically undressing themselves right out in the open as an invitation. He'd only taken a few of those offers over the years and none of them had made him feel any better. He knew the club, save for Opie, didn't really understand why he wasn't living it up and embracing the single life, but he'd learned the hard way that banging every girl in sight wasn't going to fill the void inside him. But after a few drunken nights spent just talking to Wendy, he'd found a kindred spirit in misery.

Wendy Case had had a long history of pain, heartache, and abandonment. Her mom had passed away when she was six and her dad, when he was around, liked to spend his time with her daughter using her as a punching bag. That long history of abuse led to booze, which led to drugs, all before she was a sophomore in high school. By the time she moved to Charming, she had a serious crank addiction and some serious personal issues. At first, being a shoulder for her to cry on had been sort of nice. If anything, he just appreciated the change of pace and to be the one giving comfort for once instead of the one needing the comfort. Eventually, the whole misery loves company thing didn't sound so bad and he'd even shared with her the pain of Isabelle's departure, sparing her the details, because he knew she would get it. A few nights later, they'd ended up in bed together.

He wasn't particularly proud of letting her get her hopes up about any sort of relationship between them. His attention had given her mixed signals and he couldn't really blame her for misreading them. Where he was concerned, the sex was great, but it certainly wasn't anything he couldn't find elsewhere. But the fact was that he had genuinely felt sorry for her and cared enough about her to try to help her get sober.

When Wendy told him she was pregnant, however, that all changed dramatically. At first, he didn't believe her and when she showed him the tests she'd taken, he immediately suspected that she'd gotten pregnant on purpose. He didn't doubt for a second that he was the father-she'd been under the impression that they were in some sort of relationship and he knew she'd hung on to that idea for fear of 'losing' him. And the second she'd even suggested the prospect of marriage was the second he shut her down completely. If having a baby with an ex-stripper, junkie croweater was a mistake, marrying that same ex-stripper, junkie croweater was an even bigger one.

All he had ever seen her as was a friend and had never, and would never, love her. But despite her attempts to convince him that they needed to 'be a family', he'd made sure she had a nice apartment to live in and that all her expenses were paid for. Of course, the minute he'd found out she was still using while pregnant with his kid, any mercy he felt towards her vanished. Her stupidity and weakness had nearly killed Abel and there was no forgiving that sin.

She was fucking lucky she was still alive.

Now, he had zero intention of letting that stupid bitch anywhere near his son. Up until then, he'd been prepared to share custody with Wendy, much to Gemma's dismay, because at that point, he'd still seen her as his son's mother and still deserving of some respect. And now, as far as he was concerned, his son didn't have a mother, at least not one worth mentioning.

Jax sighed again and ran a hand through his hair before popping in yet another piece of Nicorette gum. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The birth of his first child wasn't supposed to happen like this, not with that woman, and not in that way. While everything professionally, so to speak, was going his way, personally, he was in pieces. He'd accomplished almost everything he'd set out to do with the club, but it wasn't enough.

Abel was really the only thing still holding him together now. Other than the club, Abel was the only real purpose he had in life. If he could just be a good father and create the safest, healthiest environment he could for Abel to grow up in, then maybe he could say he'd finally done something right.

Because the truth was, nothing felt right without Isabelle there next to him. Nothing felt complete. Nothing felt like it even really mattered. Even the triumphs and successes he'd achieved along the way felt deflated without being able to share it with her.

He knew, with clear certainty, that what he needed in his life was her. Seeing her again tonight had just reinforced what he'd always known. He needed her support. He needed her guidance. He needed her love. He needed her to be Abel's mother. He needed her to be his wife.

But none of that was going to happen. No amount of wishful thinking would ever change that. And with Isabelle back in town now for an unforeseeable amount of time, it was probably for the best if he just let go of those hopes now.

* * *

Isabelle sighed heavily as the elevator doors opened on the NICU floor. Here she was again. No matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, to tell herself that it was inappropriate for her to be here, she just couldn't stay away. Abel was going home tomorrow and since she knew she couldn't show up on this floor tomorrow for that very reason, she needed to take this last opportunity to see him while she still could. She couldn't imagine a scenario where she would ever be this close to Abel again and so, she just couldn't bring herself to stay away.

Besides, after a long day of sitting by her dad's hospital bed, this respite of hope was exactly what she needed right before visiting hours were over for the day. Abel's fighting spirit was inspiration enough that some good things still happened in this world and that sometimes, wishful thinking actually amounting to something tangible. Sometimes, sick babies got better. Sometimes, there really were happily ever afters.

But when she turned the corner to head towards Abel's little room, she stopped dead in her tracks. A woman with long, wavy brown hair was standing right up to the glass with one hand anxiously clutching her purse and the other pressed desperately into the window separating her from Abel. At first, a rush of protectiveness for this tiny, helpless little boy washed over her and she was prepared to tell this woman to get the hell away from Jax's son, but when the woman turned her head at the sound of her footsteps, Isabelle was struck by the immediate familiarity of her features.

The woman's dark eyes widened in shock and then she was glancing around nervously, almost panicked, and anxiously twisted one of the rings on her fingers as she took a few alarmed steps closer to Isabelle.

It was then that Isabelle realized the woman had tears in her eyes. And it was also then that Isabelle realized exactly where she'd seen this woman before. While all she had were flashes of her memory to go on, she was almost positive she'd seen this woman at the clubhouse before...which, if she was a betting woman, could only really mean one thing: this woman was Wendy Case and also, Abel's mother.

Suddenly, she felt trapped on this floor as the woman she believed to be Abel's mother headed straight for her. Then, the woman skidded to an abrupt stop, opened her mouth to speak and then snapped it shut again. They stood there like that, at a complete standstill, for a few unbearable moments.

Finally, the woman spoke in a hushed, hoarse voice. "We must've had the same idea, huh?"

Isabelle frowned, still unsure of what exactly was happening here. "What do you mean?"

The woman lifted a shoulder with a sad smile. "Showing up here the day before he gets to go home...to avoid seeing someone we both don't want to see, right?"

Frozen to the tile floor, Isabelle could only watch in disbelief as the woman pressed another uneasy smile to her face and then thrust a hand out of her to shake.

"I'm Wendy," she greeted her quietly. "It's nice to finally meet you, Isabelle."

At first, Isabelle wasn't sure she'd heard Wendy correctly. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. There were just no words to accurately address this moment, especially since from the second she'd turned the corner, nothing had gone like she'd expected.

Finally, something turned back on and she quickly shoved her hand out to shake Wendy's still outstretched hand.

"Hi," Isabelle replied skeptically. "I'm sorry...but how do you know my name?"

Wendy shot her a sad, knowing smile and shrugged. "I've seen you at the clubhouse and...I've seen the tattoo. Besides, even if I hadn't, you're sort of a legend around the clubhouse."

There was too much in those last two comments for Isabelle to even know where to begin. Her mind could only focus on the fact that he still had her name tattooed across his left pectoral, not the fact that Wendy had seen it and how she'd seen it. This new piece of information really shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, she still had Jax's crow inked on her lower back, so why would she expect anything different from him? Still, just knowing it was still there, after all this time, sent shockwaves rippling down her spine. And then there was the comment about her being well-known around the clubhouse. If that really was true, at least it explained how Kip had seemed to know who she was...even though it still didn't explain why her name still held any meaning inside the clubhouse's walls.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle stuttered suddenly. "I didn't mean to be rude...I just wasn't expecting to see anyone here right now."

"Yeah," Wendy chuckled good-naturedly. "Me either."

Ever so slightly, they were slowly inching their way back to Abel's window until they stood side by side near the glass. Glancing back at Wendy, Isabelle could see her eyes welling up with tears again and then Wendy abruptly shook her head.

"Please don't tell Jax I was here," Wendy whispered desperately, her eyes still on the tiny little boy in the incubator. "He can't know I was here."

"Why would I tell Jax?" Isabelle frowned back at her.

Wendy turned back to face her with an odd expression her face. "Well, I think it's-nevermind, sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Isabelle had no idea what to make of this now. Everything that had happened between now and stepping out of the elevator was just a complete mindfuck and there was no way she'd be able to sort through it all anyways. So, she just remained silent and let Wendy do all the talking.

"I know I shouldn't be here right now," Wendy went on quietly, her eyes still fixated on the baby inside the window. "Jax told me to stay away from him after what I did...I know I should, but I just can't."

She paused to gauge Isabelle's reaction and Isabelle could see fresh tears streaming down Wendy's face now. A slight pang of something that felt an awful lot like sympathy washed over her and Isabelle quickly shook it off.

"I wish I'd done so many things differently," Wendy was whispering now. "But I have to live with what I did...I was in rehab these last two months. Did anybody tell you that?"

Isabelle shook her head and swallowed tightly.

Wendy just laughed bitterly. "Of course they didn't. I guess I shouldn't be surprised; it's not like I have a whole lot of friends left in the clubhouse."

"I'm sorry," Isabelle whispered back, even though she wasn't exactly sure what she was sorry about.

"Don't be," Wendy shook her head firmly. "I guess I deserve it, don't I? I almost killed my son because I'm such a...God, I just can't believe I hurt him the way I did. I never meant for any of this to happen, you know?"

Isabelle nodded solemnly and nearly asked if Wendy meant getting pregnant in the first place or almost killing Abel, but decided against it. That wasn't going to help anything and it certainly wasn't going to do much for Wendy's current state.

"So, um, how's your dad doin'?" Wendy asked hesitantly.

"He's dying," Isabelle just shrugged. "I guess that about sums it up."

"Right," Wendy nodded sympathetically. "Look, I just want to let you know that I just got out of rehab yesterday and I just wanted to see Abel. I wasn't gonna do anything...I just wanted to make sure he was alright."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Wendy," Isabelle told her quietly. "You don't owe me an explanation. He's still your son, regardless of what happened."

"Yeah," Wendy laughed bitterly. "I wish it was that easy."

"So, you're not gonna at least try for something...custody, visitation, anything? If you don't mind me asking…" Isabelle started cautiously. "I mean, I'm not a lawyer or anything, but I think you still have some rights."

"Not really," Wendy told her wryly. "Jax made it very clear after Abel was born that if I made any attempt to be in Abel's life, he'd have me thrown in jail for what I did to him. Drug charges, fetal endangerment, the whole damn thing. Besides, even if Jax wasn't putting his foot down, I'd still have Mommy Dearest to deal with."

Isabelle grinned back at her mirthlessly, knowing exactly what Gemma must have thought about the woman who'd brought her grandson into the world and to be fair, still thought. Wendy wouldn't have much of a leg to stand on if they actually made it to court and if Jax made good on those threats to have her arrested, Isabelle suspected there'd be ample evidence of Wendy's indiscretions to send her away for a long time.

"So, even though you'd like to fight it, you know you don't have a chance," Isabelle offered.

Wendy nodded sadly. "Something like that, yeah."

"I'm sorry," she said again, even though she knew it wouldn't mean much.

This time, Wendy didn't respond.

"I remember seeing you at the clubhouse," Wendy spoke abruptly, startling Isabelle. "When you and Jax were still together...I think it was right around the time you guys got engaged. Look, I'm sorry for bringing up shit you probably don't wanna talk about, but I feel like, given where we are right now, I need to say this, okay?"

Isabelle nodded silently, almost afraid to hear whatever it was Wendy had to say.

"I think I wanted to be you," Wendy went on softly. "From the little I saw, it just seemed like you two had it all figured out, all your shit together, and you were just so goddamn happy. I wanted that too...and when you left, I thought maybe I'd have a chance at being that happy too."

She paused for a moment to gauge Isabelle's reaction, but she was motionless, rooted to the floor at Wendy's words.

"I was wrong...just chasing after somethin' that wasn't supposed to be mine, I guess. He talked about you all the time, you know. I can't remember how many nights I spent at the bar in the clubhouse listening to him talk about you, how beautiful you were, how talented you were, how much he loved you, the guilt he felt over everything that happened to you...I guess I should've known it was a lost cause, but I couldn't stop myself from trying."

Isabelle could only stare back at her, completely speechless and utterly confused as to how and why she was really having this conversation with the woman who'd had Jax's baby right now. She should be hating her right now, despising her even, after everything she'd done and all the damaged she'd caused...but she couldn't.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I thought that was it, you know?" Wendy continued remorsefully. "Everything was falling into place, we were gonna be a family, and then I asked him if we should get married," Wendy laughed in spite of the situation while Isabelle watched her with dumbstruck eyes. "What a fuckin' mistake that was. I guess I was never gonna be able to compete with a ghost."

Isabelle swallowed tightly, bewildered at the revelation of this information.

"I just wanted to tell you that," Wendy told her quietly. "I don't know if I'm ever gonna get to see Abel again and I can only imagine what people are gonna tell you about me. I know you said I don't owe you an explanation, but with everything he told me about you, the way he talked about you, and now that you're back...I think I needed to say that to you. I'm not sorry I got pregnant and everyone will probably tell you I did it on purpose, but I didn't...I'm just sorry I couldn't keep my shit together long enough to make sure Abel got here okay. I'll always have to live with that and the fact that I can't be in his life because of my mistakes. I guess I just wanted to tell you that."

After a moment of silence, Isabelle finally choked out: "Okay."

There wasn't really anything else she could say to all that.

"I think I should go now," Isabelle whispered hoarsely. "Listen, um, I won't say anything, okay? It's none of my business anyways."

Wendy sent a genuine, grateful smile and then turned her head to face the window and the little boy rested inside. As Isabelle walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that the woman who'd had Jax's baby was nothing like she'd thought she would be. She'd heard the story surrounding Abel's birth and had been just as ready to throw her pitchfork at Wendy as Gemma was.

She couldn't believe how anyone could be that reckless, that careless with another life, especially such a vulnerable one. The sting of what she'd lost had stayed with her and she'd gone through these last eight years envious of every woman she saw with a baby. It wasn't fair that she'd gotten a taste of that happiness only to have it ripped away from her only a few short weeks later. So, it was inconceivable to even consider that someone who'd gotten the one thing she now felt she'd never get to have...and had all but destroyed it before Abel even took his first breath.

She'd hated Wendy with every fiber of her being. First for being pregnant with Jax's baby in the first place, even though she'd been the one who'd left...she still couldn't help but feel a twinge of rage-fueled possessiveness to hear he was having a baby with someone else. And then she'd found out the circumstances of Abel's birth and had consequently locked herself in her studio for nearly two days straight just to manifest her fury into something productive.

But now, after actually meeting and talking to Wendy, she wasn't so sure how to feel. After all, she knew a little something about addiction and had seen the effects of it firsthand. There was something in Wendy's voice and in her dark, somber eyes that rang genuine. She wasn't just paying her lip service today. She'd been telling her the truth and for some reason, had felt the need to explain herself. Now, as she got back into the elevator, her feelings towards Wendy felt a lot less like judgement and whole lot like empathy.

Those confusing thoughts carried her all the way to her little Prius and out of the hospital's parking lot. Shaken wasn't even close to describing how she felt right now. The whole encounter was just...a complete mindfuck. What she needed right now was to pick Cooper up from Donna and Opie's, to go for a quick run, down a few glasses of wine, and make an attempt at a good night's sleep. If she was going to be drinking, she couldn't pop an Ambien, but she could live with that. Wine was more of a necessity to her right now anyways.

As she continued on her exit from the hospital and towards her dad's house, the car next to her, without signalling, abruptly switched lanes and slammed on its breaks. Isabelle barely had a moment to react as her reflexes kicked in and she hit the brakes. Still, it wasn't enough and she slammed into the car in front of her. Seconds later, her body rocked forward again when the car behind her rammed into the back of her Prius.

Almost instantaneously, her eyes squeezed shut and she was transported back to the last accident she'd been in eight years before. Her entire body was shaking now as the memories of Hector Salazar stalking towards her with malice in his eyes and pointing a gun at her head. Her mind wouldn't let her go past those events, to the trauma she'd experienced after the initial accident, and instead, zeroed in on the panic and terror she'd felt at the first time a gun had ever been pointed at her.

Someone was knocking on her door now, but she was frozen in place, unable to move. Finally, mercifully, the fog lifted and her eyes snapped to the concerned face of an African American police officer she didn't recognize.

"Miss, are you alright?" the police officer was asking her now.

She nodded silently, still unable to find her voice after the initial shock wore off.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked again. "Can I open the door, miss?"

She nodded again and he didn't hesitant to pull the door open, extending his hand to help her out of her now-mangled Prius. Daring a look over her shoulder, she cringed at the damage. Her once cute little car now resembled an accordion, smashed in on both ends. She knew, instinctively, that she should feel lucky all that had happened to her was a panic attack, but it was hard to feel anything but numb.

"I'm Sheriff Roosevelt," he was telling her now through the haze. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Isabelle Martin," she whispered.

He nodded in approval, clearly satisfied that she could answer him coherently. "Did you hit your head? Do you need an ambulance?"

"No," she shook her head immediately. Even though she could already tell her neck was going to be sore tomorrow, the last thing she wanted to do was go back there tonight.

Sheriff Roosevelt eyed her carefully like he didn't quite believe her. "Well, is there someone I can call for you, Isabelle? You're at least gonna need a tow; I can call for you-"

"No," Isabelle cut in abruptly. "I can do it. I know Gemma at T-M; I'm sure she'll just send someone to come get me."

He seemed to accept that answer and started firing off questions about what had happened. She did her best to get him as much information as she could. Everything had just happened so quickly that it was difficult to recall the exact details. When she'd exhausted her memory and Sheriff Roosevelt was content with the intel she'd supplied him, he moved away from her to question the other drivers, giving her some space to make her call.

With a quick inhale for strength, she called on one of the exercises her therapist had instructed her to do when the memories became too much and counted to five. When her eyes snapped open again, she avoided the watchful, curious gaze of Sheriff Roosevelt and dug into her purse for her phone to call Gemma.

* * *

The chapel was completely, almost eerily silent, and that was just the way Jax liked it. This was one of the few places he could go in the clubhouse where he could be completely alone with his thoughts with little to no room for distractions. No noisy bar rats, no music, no mindless chatter, no view of either of Isabelle's works, no Gemma...he could just shut everything out and figure out whatever it was that needed to be dealt with.

Right now, he'd barricaded himself in the chapel to flip through Cara Cara's latest monthly reports that Bobby had just handed to him. Numbers were up, the profit margin was steadily increasing, and the club was inching closer to his ultimate goal.

With Abel coming home tomorrow, seeing these reports were just one more reminder of his endgame. They couldn't just maintain these kinds of numbers; they had to increase them too and he was a little stuck in figuring out how to do that. Even though they'd cut ties and handed off business elsewhere to most of their contacts, the only ones that still stayed in their orbit were the Mayans and the Niners. The club still couldn't stand on its own without their business and Jax had had no choice but to keep their ties active.

After finally cutting ties with the Irish, they'd still had to do some protection runs for Alvarez and Laroy, even if they weren't exactly happy about it. Luckily for him, and the club, they didn't have to do too much movement anymore and had been able to outsource Salazar's crew to do most of the dirty work for them. It was nearly the only silver lining that had come about of what had happened to Isabelle eight years ago and Jax wasn't about to let that connection, or Salazar's genuine remorse for his role in that tragedy, go to waste. Forged in defeat, guilt, and devastation over his girlfriend's death, Salazar had been nothing if not a good, reliable lapdog, probably because he knew that Jax could turn around and shoot him without a moment's notice for the damage he'd instigated.

If they could just get a few more investments under their belts and a little more financial stability underneath them, they could finally stand on their own two feet without the profits from gun running. By his own estimation, it looked like they'd have to wait at least another year or two before that came even close to a reality.

A light rap on the door jerked him out of his revelry and Half-Sack's head poked through the door.

"Sorry to disturb you, boss, but there's some guys out here that wanna talk to you and Ope," Half-Sack informed him quietly.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Sack," Jax waved him away as he stood up from his chair at the head of the table and replaced his toothpick. "They say what they wanna talk about?"

Half-Sack just shrugged. "I dunno. One of them is in an awfully nice suit though."

"Do I wanna know how you know about nice suits and all that shit?" Jax eyed him carefully, adjusting his cut as he spoke.

"Nah," he replied easily. "Prolly not."

Jax just shook his head, chuckling all the way through the clubhouse and out into T-M's parking lot. While Opie's behemoth-like stature was kind of hard to miss, his eyes were immediately drawn to the two men Half-Sack had obviously been referring to. He followed their movements and expressions carefully, shifting his attention every few moments back to his VP, who stood in front of them with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest.

Only one of the two men wore a suit and Jax could tell just by glancing at the guy next to him that he was the one in charge. One of his greatest assets that he'd learned over the last three years as president was always being able to tell who held the power and who listened to the power. Just at first glance, the man in the suit, with his salt and pepper hair, clean-shaven face, and stately mannerisms, told Jax this was the man who was calling the shots, whatever they might be. The other guy stared him down, the way Happy might glare at someone who inched a hair too close to his Prez, and Jax could just barely make out an odd-shaped tattoo peeking out from the front of the guy's shirt collar.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Clay and Piney step outside T-M's garage just enough to get a curious look at what was going on. Instead of acknowledging the history standing off into the distance, Jax pressed forward, embracing his role as club leader, and moved to take his place beside Opie.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Jax started good-naturedly, sliding the toothpick around his mouth.

The man in the suit shot his hand forward with a smile on his face that made Jax uneasy. "My name's Ethan Zobelle. This is my associate, AJ Weston."

"Jax Teller," he nodded to him as he shook Zobelle's hand and then Weston's. "I'm sure you've already been introduced to my friend, Opie, here."

Zobelle pressed a quick, business-like smile on his face and passed him a business card. "Yes, we've been introduced to your VP. I was hoping we could schedule a business meeting with you and the high-ranking officers in your club."

Jax's eyebrows lifted into his forehead; he hadn't really been expecting this guy to jump right into it, but then again, he couldn't say he completely trusted anything that came out of his mouth on pure instinct alone. Something about Zobelle didn't sit right with him; maybe it was the dangerous glint in his eye or maybe it was the way he stared right through him like he was a speck of dirt underneath his leather shoes. Either way, an immediate red flag went up where this guy was concerned and Jax could already tell he was going to have to tread carefully.

The second he glanced at Zobelle's business card, he quickly understood why his instincts had been screaming. The League of American Nationalists wasn't a name he'd heard in a while, but he'd heard it none the least. And as far as he was concerned, white supremacists had no place in his hometown or around his club.

"Well," Jax started, casting a sideways glance at his VP as he spoke. "That's not really the way we do things here."

"And what is it that you do here?"

Jax's lips curved up into a knowing smile just as he heard Opie chuckle next to him.

"Well, Mr. Zobelle," Jax went on lightly. "You can tell us what you want from us right now and then we take it to our table and vote on it. That's how it works. You don't get a sit-down unless my club votes it through and before we can do that, we gotta know what your business is here in our town."

Zobelle's eyebrows rose at the words 'our town' and Jax didn't miss the flash of anger that passed over his face, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

"Well," Zobelle recovered quickly. "In that case, might as well cut to the chase then. My colleagues and I have been looking to expand our enterprises here in Northern California and after doing some research, we learned of your efforts to legitimize your organization. We would like to propose a business arrangement to help you do that."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at him before glancing at Ope, who was silently appraising the men in front of him. "And how would you propose to do that?"

Zobelle shrugged with an easy smile. "It's a win-win situation for both our organizations, actually. We're looking to open a number of businesses here in Northern California and are looking for protection. We'd be willing to pay you handsomely for your services."

"So what do you get out of it, other than protection?" Opie interjected suspiciously.

"You stop selling guns to coloreds," Zobelle replied simply as if the notion wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

So now, Jax could clearly see what these men from the League of American Nationalists wanted: muscle and control of the gun trade to keep the 'coloreds' down and out. There would be no point of taking this to the table other than to just go through the motions of protocol. Samcro would not be ordered around by a bunch of racists who hid behind business suits instead of white bedsheets. No fucking way.

Jax met Zobelle's eyes head-on and immediately recognized the challenge in his black eyes. This man was waiting for him to make a wrong move, to say the wrong thing and piss him off, but he wouldn't be getting that shit today or any other day.

"I gotta bring this to our table," Jax relayed diplomatically, sweeping his hands out in front of him as if to imply that his hands were tied, which they weren't. "Can't just make an arrangement with you without taking this to my club first. I'm sure you understand."

When Zobelle nodded, satisfied with that response, Jax held up the business card still in between his fingertips.

"I'll call you at this number as soon as the vote goes through."

"And when will that be, Mr. Teller?"

Jax pretended to consider it and then shrugged politely. "Ah, I'll call a meeting tonight, bring 'em all up to speed. Should have a decision for you by the end of the day."

As Zobelle nodded, both Jax and Opie moved forward to shake the men's hands one more time before they took the hint that it was time for them to leave now.

Opie waited until they were completely out of the parking lot before leaning down to mutter, "That prim and proper polite act doesn't look so good on you, brother."

Jax chuckled heartily and nudged him with his elbow. "Oh well, just tryin' to keep up appearances, you know?"

"Yeah well, I guess it was a nice touch, makin' those two assholes think they had a shot."

"Why burn bridges, right, bro?"

He slapped Ope on the shoulder and nodded at his mother, who was heading right for them, probably ready to stick her nose where it didn't belong. Time and hard-earned experience had taught him never to underestimate a potential enemy, even if you thought you had the upper hand. He'd made that mistake twice. First with Salazar and second with Jordan and he'd be damned if he made that mistake a third time. Ethan Zobelle was a dangerous, potentially lethal kind of man who Jax figured was used to getting what he wanted. They needed to do more than tread carefully with Zobelle and his league of racists because he didn't trust these assholes any further than he could shove his foot up their asses.

"Hey, Jax?" his mother called out to him. "I need you to take the truck and give a customer a tow."

Really? That was what she wanted? He and Ope had literally just had a not-so-subtle showdown with a known gangster and racist and she wanted him to hop into the tow truck now?

"Ma," he appraised her reproachfully and shook his head. "I'm pretty sure there's gotta be someone else around this dump that can do that. I'm a little tied up right now."

"Looks like your meeting with the suit is over. So...get goin' on that tow, Jackson," she thrust out some paperwork to him as she spoke, but he just batted it away.

"Get a prospect to do it, Gemma," he shot back, unable to mask the annoyance in his voice. "Somethin' came up that I need to take care of."

She pushed an invoice at him again and gestured for him to take a closer look at it. "Oh, I don't think you want a prospect to help this customer. Trust me, Jax."

He frowned at those words and dared a glance down at the paper in his hand. His eyes widened at the name scribbled across the customer section of the invoice and pulled his gaze back up to his mother in a panic.

"What happened? Is she alright?"

"Sounded like some asshole pulled out in front of her after she left the hospital today, slammed on his breaks, and Isabelle was right in the middle of a three car fender bender."

Frustrated with that response, he tugged a hand through his slicked back hair. "Is she alright, Mom?"

Gemma's eyes softened at his inability to hide how much this mattered to him, how much _she_ mattered to him, and she sent him a quick, reassuring flash of a smile. "She sounded a little shaken up, but that's it."

That was all he needed to hear before he was high-tailing it into the garage for his T-M work shirt and then sprinting to the tow truck. Even though he had a sinking feeling that not only was Isabelle unaware he was the one coming for her, but that she also wasn't going to be very happy to see him, it wasn't enough to keep him from getting to her. If she needed help, he was gonna get to her. And fuck if he was gonna let anyone else get to her first.

* * *

Gemma Teller-Morrow watched her son peal out of the parking lot, squealing the truck's tires in the process, and a smug grin touched her lips. That was just too easy. Part of her had almost hoped that Jax would put up a little more of a fight so that she had to work a little bit harder. It was no fun if they just gave in right away anyways.

Having witnessed firsthand the damage left in the wake of Isabelle's tragic exit from Charming, Gemma also knew that it probably wasn't going to be as easy as she liked to think. Her son seemed to be sleep-walking through these last eight years, only connected to the club and not much else and Isabelle, well, she was another matter entirely.

She loved that girl that she was her own daughter, but sometimes, she wished she could just pick Isabelle up and shake her. Maybe smack some sense into her. When it came to her happiness, Isabelle was really her own worst enemy and judging by how quickly she flew off the handle when she realized Jax had paid her dad's hospital bills, would continue to be the biggest obstacle in her own path until she snapped the fuck out of it.

While Gemma had long suspected that the issues Isabelle was struggling with ran deeper than what she had suffered at the hands of Salazar and Jordan, that didn't mean she still couldn't finally allow Jax to help her pick up the pieces. She had to hand it to Isabelle though...the girl was pretty good at keeping secrets. Gemma'd had to unceremoniously snoop in her condo in LA to find the prescriptions for Zoloft and Ambien and even then, Isabelle probably had a few more stashed somewhere. What she was doing wasn't real living and despite the circumstances, Gemma couldn't have been more grateful that Isabelle had finally returned home where she belonged. At least now, she could keep a closer eye on her.

And even though it was a relief to see Jax finally come alive at the birth of his son, he was still drifting. Still barely staying afloat.

They were both lost without the other. Anyone who knew them could see that. If it took a little pushing and a little shoving to force Isabelle to realize that she never should've left Charming in the first place, then so be it. The only way either of them was ever going to be truly happy again was if they were together.

The circumstances weren't exactly ideal; a dying father and a two-month-old in an incubator did not a happy reunion make, but Isabelle was here. She was in Charming and that was good enough for now. Abel was going to need a mother, but it wasn't just about that. It was about them finally figuring their shit out. They both liked to talk the talk about how adult and grown up they were, but from where Gemma was standing, she'd yet to see that maturity actually manifest itself. Sure, Isabelle was thriving professionally and Jax was finally steering the club his way, on his terms, but that wasn't enough to make either of them whole.

The missing pieces were right in front of them. Now, all they had to do was reach out and take them.

So, when Isabelle had called her a few moments before to tell her about the accident, Gemma didn't think twice about who she was going to send to go collect her. She was well aware that she'd promised Isabelle she wouldn't manipulate them, but this was just too goddamn important.

Jax, like she'd predicted, had jumped to the rescue. Bits and pieces of his old self flashed in him again and the love and devotion she'd always seen where Isabelle was concerned shone right through.

Of course, Jax really wasn't the one she was worried about. If he could, she knew he'd fall right back into the life he'd had with her in a heartbeat, but it just wasn't that simple. Isabelle would fight it every step of the way, kicking and screaming probably, but sooner or later, she would realize that what they felt about each other ran deeper than the distance and the time life had put between them.

This was real. This was fate. And Gemma would be damned if she allowed her only living son and the girl she loved like a daughter throw away a lifetime of happiness.

* * *

**A/N-So now we've gotten into Jax's head a little to get his perspective. Like I've mentioned before, this isn't going to be easy and it's going to take them some time before they can come to terms with everything that led up to Isabelle leaving Charming. With everyone pretty concerned about Wendy and if Tara's going to show up again, I'm still kinda surprised no one caught Ima's brief appearance in the first chapter! She's not exactly going to go away easily and she's going to be more of an issue for Isabelle than anyone else ;)**

**I also wanted to include a little bit of Gemma's perspective in this chapter (and this is the only time, promise!) to address an issue brought up by a guest reviewer. I guess I'd never really thought about how the Gemma in this series related to the Gemma on the show, but I've always written the characters, at least I hope, as separate from their counterparts on the show. I guess I just wanted to show that while she's not the evil, murderous, irredeemable bitch she is on the show, she's not exactly innocent either and is going to manipulate them both at every opportunity. She's going to do what she thinks is best for both of them, even if her methods will be a little questionable in the process. So, that being said, I hope that addressed any concerns about Gemma in this series and let you get inside her head a little. She loves Isabelle like a daughter and has become something of a surrogate mother to her, which is wildly different from the relationship Gemma had with Tara on the show. **

**As for Tara, she will be making an appearance again, sort of, but it probably won't be the way you think. Like Gemma mentioned in this chapter, Isabelle's worst enemy is going to be, well, herself. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I still can't believe the amount of support and excitement you guys have shown for this and that just makes me want to get going with this even more! Let me know what you thought of this one; I know it was long, but it kinda needed to establish a little more of the history from the time they spent apart. And I know this was a pretty long A/N, but it's the last one, promise ;)**


	3. Easy Normal

It wasn't until the headlights of T-M's tow truck came into view that Isabelle grasped Gemma might not have been completely trustworthy. Sure, she'd promised she wouldn't push, but this was Gemma Teller-Morrow. She wasn't exactly the type of woman to back down when she truly believed she was doing the 'right' thing. Whatever the hell that was. When she'd called Gemma for some help, it'd never really occurred to her that she might not throw away a potential opportunity to make her miserable.

And, as the truck pulled up directly behind her smashed-in little Prius, dwarfing it in the process and making it look in even worse shape, Isabelle could clearly discern the outline of an all too familiar slicked back blonde head.

God fucking dammit.

Part of her wanted to slam her fist into the side of her car and the other part had half a mind to get Gemma on the phone immediately to call her out on her bullshit. Unfortunately, as Jax swiftly left the truck and stalked straight for her, all ability to even move completely evacuated. One glimpse of him and all her faculties were out of commission. Dressed in dark jeans and his T-M work shirt, Isabelle swallowed back the reality that Jax could be wearing just about anything and she would still be stripped bare, panting at his feet. Still, it had been awhile since she'd seen him in his work clothes and suddenly, the memories hidden in that simple T-M logo flooded over her.

Quickly shaking herself out of it, she inhaled deeply for some sort of strength. This was not the time for reminiscing. She'd just been in an accident and was lucky she wasn't being loaded into an ambulance right now. He was here to do his job, she told herself, even if it was painfully obvious that Gemma had manipulated the situation to her advantage. But, the deep concern etched across his features hit her right in the chest and she fought desperately for control. One wrong move and her knees would give out on her for sure.

Keeping her guard up was the only thing that separating her from a complete breakdown right now and there was no way she was going to suffer through that in front of Jax. Not after the nosedive this accident had just caused her and definitely not after coming face to face with the woman who'd had his baby . So, with yet another deep inhale, she geared herself up for the inevitable uphill battle.

"Hey, Iz," Jax exhaled breathlessly when he was finally standing in front of her, his eyes frantically scanning her for injury. It wasn't lost on her that his first immediate concern was not checking over her vehicle. "You alright?"

She nodded quickly, protectively crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm fine, Jax."

Exasperation flashed briefly over his face, but it passed just as quickly as it came. To his credit, he ignored her use of that much-maligned word, 'fine', and instead, cocked his head to the side as his eyes continued their appraisal of her. Under the weight of his ocean-blue eyes, she shifted anxiously, unable to tear her gaze away from him.

"Well," he murmured finally. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure, Jax," Isabelle bit out agitatedly and pulled her gaze pointedly to her smashed up Prius.

His eyebrows rose into his forehead and with one more hard look, he nodded. "Alright. I'm gonna take care of this here then," he gestured towards her car with his head. "Hey, Roosevelt! She good to go?"

Sheriff Roosevelt waved them off, but not before narrowing his eyes in their direction. Jax caught the look and just shook his head back at the Sheriff. There was already too much to process in this situation the way it was, so Isabelle chose to just ignore that last interaction and hopped up into the truck, rubbing the growing ache in the back of her neck.

About ten minutes later, the driver's side door flung open and Jax slid in next to her. This close proximity sent every one of her senses to short circuit and on reflex, her entire body tensed up at his nearness. If he sensed her coldness, he didn't show it and instead moved to turn the ignition to get them out of there. He paused as his hand hung mid-air reaching for the key, his eyes frozen on the tattoo of stars swirling down from her shoulder to her wrist.

Suddenly, she was hyper-aware that she was wearing a tank top and her jacket was lying in the backseat of her car. With the way they were sitting, there was really no way Jax wouldn't have seen the tattoo on her left arm. Covering up her arm with her hand wouldn't even hide half of it and now it was too late. He'd already seen the tattoo-his eyes still hadn't left the ink cascading around her left arm-and she was certain that the second his eyes had landed on it, he'd intuitively known exactly what it meant.

"So...I can just drop you off at your dad's," Jax suggested quietly from his side of the truck, breaking the awkward silence.

Isabelle's head snapped up at the sound of his achingly familiar voice. "You don't have to do that."

"Nah," he just shrugged. "It's not a big deal, Iz. Someone would just have to drop you off anyways since you're currently car-less. Besides, I'm sure you've had a long day...just let me bring you home, alright?"

She stiffened at his words and struggled to come up with some sort of response. "Uh...well, we have to stop at Ope and Don's so I can pick up Cooper then."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at her, silently prompting her to explain.

"My dog," she elaborated and she could've sworn she heard an exhale of relief from his side of the truck.

A few beats later, he shot her that sexy lop-sided smirk she knew so well in another life. "Okay, then. We'll stop at Ope and Don's, pick up this dog of yours, and then I'm takin' you home."

She tried not to wince at his use of that word for the second time in less than three minutes and swallowed back as much of the lingering bitterness as she could. Nothing and nobody here in Charming was home to her anymore, but she also knew she couldn't share that little sentiment with Jax either. Even if he did understand, that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have, especially with him.

"Hey, Iz?" His soft voice called out to her again.

"Yeah?"

"You sure you're alright?"

Caught off-guard for one, brief moment of weakness, Isabelle turned her head to meet his attentive, worried blue eyes and felt her resolve soften for one more moment.

"I'm okay, Jax," she told him with a sad smile. "It just brought up a lot of bad memories, you know?"

His face twisted with barely concealed pain and rubbed a hand anxiously against his mouth. He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it just as quickly, casting her a remorseful sideways glance. And for reasons she didn't have the energy to contemplate just yet, she knew she needed to yank them both out of this depressing funk with some small talk.

"So, what kind of damage am I looking at here? It's not totalled, is it?"

"Not sure," he shrugged nonchalantly. "But, I guess that's what you get for drivin' a Prius."

In spite of her current predicament, she found herself smiling her first genuine smile since she'd come back to Charming...at Jax. And then she laughed. When the hell was the last time she actually laughed? Especially in a conversation with someone else? Definitely not since she'd been back in town. But now, sitting next to Jax in such confined quarters, she couldn't hide from the fact that for these last few minutes, an overwhelming sense of calm permeated through everything right now...and she knew the exact reason why.

"Hey, you can't beat the gas mileage I get with that little beauty," she shot back, relishing in how easy this felt again, if just for a moment.

"Gas mileage? Seriously?" Jax glanced back at her through raised eyebrows with a smirk. "Please tell me that's not why you bought it."

"Not just that," she shook her head and bit back a smile. "It's a hybrid, Jax...did you miss that little detail?"

"Please," he scoffed. "You probably have to go, what, less than five miles everyday to get wherever you need to go...come on."

"Anyone who's anyone in LA drives a hybrid Prius, Jax. Didn't you know that?"

He lifted a shoulder in concession and shot her another smirk with warm blue eyes. "I guess I'll just have to let this one go, huh? After all, you _are_ someone in LA, aren't ya?"

"Well," she allowed sheepishly. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

"You've had, what, at least ten shows already? At the Warehouse, right? I'd say you're someone, Iz."

It was right on the tip of her tongue to ask him how he knew that, especially the name of the gallery she and Bennett had opened together, but figured it was just Gemma doing her little dirty work again.

"Yeah," she ventured cautiously. "I guess Benn does keep me pretty busy."

Jax shot her another quick grin and she suddenly felt warm right down to her toes. "And how is Benn doin'?"

She couldn't stop herself from grinning right back. "Oh, you know. Running the gallery, organizing and planning like a madman. He's more like a dictator actually. But that's pretty much what we always said we would do when we first met...he'd take the business end and I've got the creative end."

Part of her couldn't believe they were sitting here, side by side in this truck, catching up like old friends. But then again, being in such close proximity to Jax was doing crazy things to her head. This underlying wave of calm and peace was something she wanted to hold on to for as long as she could, even if just lasted until he dropped her off at her dad's house. This was small talk. They weren't having a deep, meaningful conversation here and so, this was okay for now.

"So you guys own the place together then?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a small smile. "Well, actually, I only own part of it. Benn and Aiden own some of it too, but we've got investors that put money into the gallery too. Other artists that show pieces. Aiden's actually had a couple shows there recently too."

"Oh yeah? That's Ben's, uh...boyfriend, right?"

She bit back an impressed grin that he actually remembered. "Technically husband now."

"Wow," Jax nodded with approval.

"Yeah, I was the 'best woman' and everything," she made air quotes as she laughed.

With that sexy, lop-sided smirk he threw back at her, Isabelle felt her insides warm and curl up in her stomach. Sitting here in this truck with him was almost like the last eight years had never happened, or, at the very least, didn't matter. In this truck, it was like time had simply stood still and they were 21 again, before she'd lost their baby, before Jax had gone to prison, before he'd pushed her away, before Salazar, before Jordan, before they were even together. All that remained was the ease and normalcy between them, just like all the times they'd sat at that picnic table during their breaks at T-M.

Knowing that all this would probably evaporate the minute they left this truck was enough to knock the wind out of her.

"So, Aiden is an artist too?"

Jax's voice floated around her, but couldn't quite penetrate through the haze.

"Iz?"

Her eyes snapped up from staring the skin right off her hands. "Hmm?"

Jax's forehead creased deep with concern and his eyes once again flitted directly to the stars swirling around her arm as if they had a mind of their own. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

Part of her almost wanted to be completely honest with him and reply that no, she wasn't okay, at least not until she'd gotten into this truck with him. But she didn't have the strength to say what she was really feeling, especially since the truth wouldn't change anything.

"Yeah, Jax," she whispered finally. "I'll be okay."

It was then that she realized that was the first time in...she really had no idea how long...that she'd expressed any sort of hope that things could get better out loud. The fact that the first time she'd ever said it, and meant it, wasn't in her therapist's office, it wasn't with Bennett or Donna or even Gemma, but with Jax, wasn't something she was prepared to deal with at the moment, especially since this was the first real conversation they'd had in eight years.

All the emotions, both good and bad, that his very name flared up inside her threatened the carefully constructed wall she'd assembled to dam up everything she knew she wasn't strong enough to face. Besides, she didn't come back to Charming to exorcise old demons. She was here to be by her dad's side and make sure he had everything he needed. This accident, and this ride, was just a detour.

* * *

By the time Jax pulled the truck into Opie's driveway, it was all he could do to hide the wave of disappointment that rushed over him. Once they picked up Isabelle's dog, he only had about ten more minutes before he'd be pulling into her dad's driveway and then, this would be over. She was actually having a conversation with him that wasn't filled with tension and bitterness, but he'd be willing to bet his next take from the club that the second this little trip was over, the ice he'd seen in Isabelle's eyes in T-M's office would return.

It was all but a fucking certainty.

So, with a resigned sigh, he turned the ignition in the truck as Isabelle hopped down from the passenger seat to head out into the driveway. His eyes followed her, taking in every movement, every sway of her hips, just everything about her, and his gaze fell once again to the tattoo on her left arm.

At first, the initial shock of seeing that much ink on her smooth skin got the better of him. The stars were a little bigger starting around her shoulder and grew smaller as they twirled around her arm down to her wrist. But then, his eyes had drifted to the compass inked on his left forearm and the pieces had snapped into place. And, while he didn't remember much from school, he knew enough to know that a compass and stars had some sort of symbolic connection.

Part of him felt a surge of hope at seeing that tattoo. If anything, it represented that there was still something between them, some sort of connection, at least enough for her to put it permanently on her skin. But then again, she'd been out of his life for the past eight years and hadn't returned to Charming because of him. She'd left _because_ of him instead.

Unfortunately, he wasn't so sure he'd ever get a chance to ask her if his suspicions were correct. As soon as her business here in Charming was resolved, he figured she wouldn't waste much time in high-tailing it back to her life in LA, not like he could blame her.

Sensing that it was time for him to get a move on, he slid out of the truck just as the front door opened, releasing one of the biggest furballs he'd ever seen barreling right towards Isabelle. He watched, almost mystified, as this behemoth of a black lab sprinted towards her and lunged playfully at her. She yelped out in surprise and wrapped her arms around the big guy's neck before leaning down to plant a kiss on top of his massive head.

It had been a very long since any twinge of jealousy had worked its way through Jax's system and now, he found himself staring down this dog with narrowed eyes. Fuck. He was jealous of a dog.

"Hey, Coop," Isabelle was practically cooing to that dog now. "Easy boy…I missed you too."

Cooper responded by rewarding her with a sloppy kiss on the cheek and Jax felt himself flinch. Jesus Christ. What the hell was wrong with him? He coughed lightly in a lame attempt at covering up his discomfort and then suddenly, the dog turned his head and froze. Jax could've sworn the hair on the back of Cooper's neck stand up as his dark eyes glinted dangerously. Carefully sidestepping around where Isabelle stood oblivious to the standoff around her, Jax turned his attention to Opie, who was meeting him in the middle of his driveway.

"Hey, Isabelle," Opie called out to her before pulling his knowing eyes back to Jax. "Brother."

"Ope," Jax nodded to him.

His VP leaned down a little as he cast a quick glance over at Isabelle, who was still preoccupied by that fucking dog. "How'd you manage this?"

Jax lifted a shoulder. "Gemma."

"Ah," Opie nodded easily. "Right. We still got church later?"

"Yeah, I just gotta bring Iz back to her dad's and then I'll head back over to the clubhouse."

"Well, I think it should be a pretty quick vote, so...you know…"

Jax rose his eyebrows expectantly. "What?"

"I don't know," his best friend and VP shrugged. "I guess I just figured that if it took you a little longer to drop Isabelle off...well, it wouldn't be a big deal, you know?"

He blew out an exasperated breath. Encouragement was really the last thing he needed right now. Thankfully, he was saved by the screen door slamming yet again as Opie's youngest came running towards them.

"Uncle Jax! Can I go for a ride in the truck?" Kenny called out to them. "Please? Oh hey, Auntie Izzy."

"Hi Kenny," Isabelle called back to him. "Did you take care of my baby?"

Kenny rolled his eyes at Isabelle while she chuckled at him and it suddenly struck Jax that they had a relationship he knew absolutely nothing about. She was Auntie Izzy to Opie's kids and he'd had no idea. While he'd been aware that she and Donna, as well as with his mother, still saw each other after she left Charming, but he'd never really thought about what that meant. Isabelle had stayed in contact with the people in his life, but those same people had taken great pains in keeping her from an uncomfortable situation. All because of him.

"So, Uncle Jax…?" Kenny stared up at him expectantly with big brown eyes.

"Well, Ken," Jax knelt down to put himself more at his level. "Probably not tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Kenny replied dejectedly and Jax ruffled his hair a little.

When he looked back up, he found Isabelle watching him with carefully hooded eyes. Then, a beat later, she turned on her heel and headed for the house, most likely to check in with Donna before they left.

"Hey, Uncle Jax?"

"Yeah, Ken?"

"Is that Auntie Izzy's car?"

Jax glanced over his shoulder at Isabelle's Prius as a grin touched his lips. "Yep."

Kenny's eyes widened and his lips formed a big 'o'. "Oh...that sucks. I guess that's why she looked so sad, huh?"

"Somethin' like that, buddy."

By the time Jax was back in the truck and on the road again, he was agitated, exasperated, and had dog slobber on his jeans. Overall, it wasn't exactly turning out to be the opportunity with Isabelle he'd been secretly hoping for. With the dog sandwiched between them, he had a massive furry barrier between him and Isabelle and she didn't necessarily seem to mind that she now had a massive buffer between them either.

As much as he wanted to prolong this uninterrupted time with Isabelle, he couldn't exactly say he was enjoying stinky, heavy dog panting right in his face. Not to mention the fact that said dog seemed to be really enjoying the fact that he was sitting directly in between him and Isabelle. So he was almost relieved when he pulled into her dad's driveway.

It didn't take long for Isabelle hop out of the truck with Cooper right behind her, but not before he cast one more smug glance at Jax. Isabelle leaned back into the passenger's side to grab her purse and pressed a quick smile on her face.

"Thanks for this, Jax," she told him softly. "I know you didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

"No problem, Iz."

And it really wasn't. At least not until the hairy beast showed up. Still, it was time with her that might not ever present itself again. And when she turned to leave, yet again, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out for her, again. His fingers closed gently around her hand, making her freeze, her eyes wide and locked directly on him.

"It was really good to see you, Iz," he whispered hoarsely. There wasn't much else he could tell her, at least not something that would make much difference, but he still had to say something before she left him in her wake.

Her eyes widened at his words and abruptly pulled her hand away from his fingers, as if his touch had scalded her. Instead of replying, she pressed a pained smile on her face and nodded. Still unable to voice a response, her eyes softened for a brief moment and then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed and she promptly shut the door behind her.

He waited patiently until he saw Isabelle and Cooper safely inside her dad's house and then, with a heavy sigh, backed out of the driveway to head back to the clubhouse.

* * *

"Alright," Jax called out as he pounded the gavel. "I have a feeling this is gonna be pretty short, but for protocol's sake, let's go through the motions, alright?"

He paused briefly for the round of nods that passed around the table before continuing.

"Ope and I had a visit today from Ethan Zobelle and AJ Weston, both members of the League of American Nationalists," Jax informed the table. "They had a business offer for us; said they'd heard about us moving outta guns and wanted to give us an opportunity to do that a little faster. Supposedly, they're gonna be opening up some businesses around here and offered to pay us for protection, enough to help us get outta guns. Said it was a win-win for both of us."

"So what's the catch though?" Tig asked from his side of the table.

Opie glanced at Jax with amusement before answering: "We stop selling guns to the Mayans and the Niners."

Chuckling made its way around the table and Jax was glad to see that this would probably take even less discussion than he had anticipated. So, he nodded to Juice, signalling to him that it was time to hear his report on Zobelle and LOAN.

"They weren't lyin' about opening up some businesses," Juice stated matter-of-factly. "I was able to dig up some permits they just filed for a couple cigar shops and a restaurant in Lodi."

"Can't imagine why they'd need protection for some cigar shops and a restaurant," Piney huffed from his spot next to Clay, who just nodded in agreement.

"Well," Jax shrugged as he bit down on his toothpick. "That's the thing. It's obviously a play for power. They're planning on movin' in and now they want control over the area too."

"I don't know about you guys," Tig started sourly. "But I don't appreciate these assholes showin' up here in our town, on our turf, and think they can tell us what to do."

Juice leaned forward and threw down a small stack of papers onto the Redwood. "They've done this before; last year, they moved into San Diego and did the exact same thing. Two years before that, they were in Seattle. They've been doing this shit for years."

"Yeah," Jax nodded. "And from what I've heard, they're not exactly friendly to work with either. They've got a reputation for strong-arming whoever they're partnered up with into doin' whatever they want. Shit got nasty in San Diego, people got hurt...I think that's why they keep movin' from place to place the way they are. As soon as shit goes south, they bail and move onto the next town, tryin' to rid the world of racial equality and all that shit."

"Well, I'm not about to let these motherfuckers come up in here and try to tell us what to do and when to do it," Happy barked out gruffly.

"I second that, brother," Opie nodded his affirmation. "As far as I'm concerned, these assholes are the exact opposite of what we need to get in bed with right now. Even if this would get us enough cash to get out of guns completely, I think we're just setting ourselves up for more of the same old shit, just a different deal."

Jax shrugged, feeling like they'd already talked through this enough for protocol purposes and gestured towards the Redwood. "Vote?"

After the curt nods passed around the table, the vote passed to give Jax the okay to tell Zobelle and his league of racists to shove their 'offer' up their asses and he didn't waste anytime to get that call over with. It wasn't like he'd anticipated the vote going any other way, but he was still more than a little relieved that the club had seen exactly what he saw. He'd known he'd be able to count on his VP to back him up, but it was reassuring to know that the rest of the club recognized that making fast cash, at any cost, wasn't the way to get themselves out of guns.

If anything, going into business with Zobelle would just them in an even worse position than they were in when they were still deeply embedded into the gun business. With guns, they were at least able to call most of the shots and manipulate situations to their advantage as much as possible. With Zobelle and LOAN, he had a feeling they'd be at the mercy of doing whatever was asked of them on LOAN's terms and that shit just wouldn't fly.

Getting out of guns was the endgame, but not at the expense of getting into business with a bunch of violent, arrogant, and unpredictable racists. Like Ope had said at the Redwood, they were the exact opposite of what the club needed right now. They'd just be setting themselves up for the exact same violence, danger, and risk...and if that were the case, they might as well just keep running guns. Or, at the very least, keep organizing runs for Salazar and his boys.

They were in this for the long haul and he'd made it very clear when he'd first unloaded his plan, along with the reasons why, that getting out of guns once and for all wasn't something that could realistically happen overnight. If they just jumped on every opportunity that presented itself to make a quick buck, sooner or later, it would backfire on them.

Taking Zobelle's offer would most definitely backfire on them.

And he was even more grateful that the club had sided with him and Ope when Zobelle's curt, sour voice told him that they were making a mistake by not taking the offer. Right. That asshole just proved that the mistake would be taking the offer, not turning it down. As far as he was concerned, this was really the best decision the club had made since agreeing to partner up with Luann.

"You make the call, brother?" Opie's voice called out from behind him.

Jax turned his head to find his VP approaching him in T-M's parking lot and lifted a shoulder. "Yep, all done, bro."

"I can't imagine that asshole took the news too well."

"Yeah, well, he'll just have to get over it...find someone else to push around."

Opie chuckled and popped a piece of Nicotine gum in his mouth before passing the pack to Jax. "You still think we made the right decision?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely, Ope," Jax laughed. "I don't think bein' someone else's bitch is exactly what we had in mind to get us outta guns. That's not how we're gonna do it, bro. It's gonna be legit...not runnin' protection for a bunch of guys there's no way we'd ever be able to trust."

"Yeah, I heard that," Opie grinned back. "Now, since your Prez business is over, you wanna tell me how you ended up in a tow truck with Isabelle today?"

Jax blew out a deep breath, suddenly wishing he could dig a cigarette pack out of his back pocket. "You saw that little beer can she calls a car. I guess someone cut in front of her on her way back from the hospital, she rear-ended them, then the person in behind her rear-ended her."

"An Isabelle sandwich, huh?"

He bit back a smirk and ran a hand over the scruff on his chin. "Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Let me guess," Opie rocked back on his heels as he spoke. "She called Gemma and Gemma came running for you to go play hero. You jumped right on it, didn't you?"

"I guess I just couldn't help myself, bro."

"Well, she seemed a little shaken up at the house...she alright?"

"I guess as much as you'd expect," Jax allowed. "She told me it brought back some bad memories, so I guess I can't blame her."

Jax quickly shook the image of Salazar holding her at gunpoint and forcing her out of her mom's Trans Am. He'd spent too much time imagining how that must've happened, from what Salazar must have said to her to the fear that must have been frozen on her beautiful face. So he could only imagine that if he felt this way, Isabelle had to feel about a million times worse.

"So...I guess the silver lining is that she was talkin' to you, right?"

"Somethin' like that."

Opie frowned and cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Running an exasperated hand over his face, he glanced back at his best friend and VP and knew that it wasn't necessarily going to do him any good to spend much time and energy on something that wasn't even within the realm of possibility for him anymore, but...it would probably make him feel better which was good enough for him.

"I don't know, Ope...it was...I guess it was like nothin' had changed, you know? Everything that worked between us...how easy it was always to just be around her, how easy it always was just to talk to her...that all just came back like no time had passed, you know?"

Opie nodded solemnly and looked down at his feet. "I don't think that'll ever go away, brother."

That wasn't exactly what Jax was hoping to hear, but then again, Opie was his most trusted friend and confidante. He also knew that Opie wouldn't lie to him or play the role of yes man, which was something he couldn't help but appreciate about this friendship. There was never any bullshit between them because they didn't lie to each other, and so he didn't see a point in lying now.

"It's just...so much fuckin' harder than I thought it would be," Jax sighed dejectedly. "I mean, I can't even tell you what it felt like to finally see her again, even just to be within reaching distance. But, fuck, man, it would almost be easier if she just hated me, you know? I could just keep my distance, make sure she's got whatever she needs for her dad, but stay out of it...but today, Ope, it was like she was almost relieved to see me. I mean, there's no way Gemma told her ahead of time that I was the one comin' to get her, but after a little while, it was almost like she'd never left and everything just fell right back into place. Then again, when I dropped her off, that just kinda fell away and she was uncomfortable with me again. Fuck, I think I'd rather have her hate me than be fuckin' uncomfortable around me."

"Yeah, brother," Opie nodded quietly. "I know what you mean. So...what are you gonna do?"

Jax just shrugged and flicked his toothpick into the grass near their feet. "Nothin'."

"Come on, Jax," Opie shot him an exasperated sideways glance as he spoke. "You just spent the last five minutes basically tellin' me that everything you'd been missing the last eight years is back again and...you're just gonna sit on your ass about it?"

"What am I supposed to do, Ope? Her dad is dying. That's why she's back and it's a pretty shitty reason to have to come back."

"So, don't push her."

"It's not that simple, bro," Jax huffed with annoyance, ready to be done with this conversation already.

"Maybe not," Opie just shrugged easily. "But you just gotta be there for her, in anyway she'll let you. Look, I know you already know this, but she's been around the house to see Donna and the kids over the years and from what I've seen, every year that went by, she looked worse and worse. I never told you that shit because I knew it wouldn't help you, but I think now you need to know. I'm not sure that she's really slept, at least not well, since the day she left Charming. She's lost weight and it's not just because of those races she trains for...she just doesn't really eat anymore, man. She's not doing well and, let's be honest here, neither are you. I think the only way you two figure your shit out is if you do it together. She might not like it at first, but she needs you, brother. I think she knows it too; she just won't admit it."

Jax swallowed tightly as he struggled to absorb what Opie was trying to tell him. He'd been aware that something in her had changed; he'd recognized it the second she'd turned around to face him in T-M's office. But he hadn't wanted to think about everything that came with those changes and now, the bags under her eyes and the way her tank top hung on her thin frame screamed right out at him. He should've seen it before, but he'd been too distracted just by seeing her again to really take all that in. Now, it was all he could see.

Maybe Opie was right.

As his best friend slapped him on the shoulder and turned to head back into the clubhouse, Jax couldn't push down that kernel of hope any longer. Everything Opie had said was true and he was starting to wonder if it truly had been for the best for Isabelle to have left for as long as she did. Eight years was more than enough time to do more damage than had been there before she left.

Knowing this now and knowing how it felt to be close to her again-how much he felt like himself again-he knew it was going take a shit ton of willpower to stay away. At this point, he wasn't so sure that was even a good idea anymore, even if Isabelle fought him every step of the way.

All he could really do now was just be there for her, like Opie had said. Do whatever she needed in any way she needed it and allow himself to embrace the protectiveness he'd always felt where she was concerned. And now, as he gazed up into the stars that mirrored the ink on Isabelle's arm, the hope he'd once buried that they'd somehow find their way together pushed its way back up to the surface.

* * *

Loud ringing from the nightstand made Isabelle groan and sleepily grope for her cell phone to make it stop. She grimaced at the stiffness in her neck and made a mental note to pop another ipbrofen before glancing at her caller ID. Huffing exasperatedly at the name on her screen, she quickly swiped across to answer, careful not to jostle Cooper on the bed too much as she moved around.

While she'd fully been expecting Gemma to call her to find out how her truck ride with Jax had gone earlier, she was more than a little surprised that Gemma was actually calling her about this shit now. It was after midnight and in her sleep-deprived state, she couldn't figure out what in the hell would possess Gemma to call for details right now.

"Yeah?" she croaked out to answer.

"Hey, Isabelle."

Gemma's hoarse, agitated voice made her immediately sit up in bed, nearly knocking Cooper right off her legs. There was something in her voice that set her on high alert and kicked alarm bells off in her head.

"Gemma? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Gemma chuckled wearily into the phone and Isabelle felt her heart tighten in fearful anticipation. "You know me so well, sweetheart. I'm, uh...I'm on my way over with Wayne, just wanted to let you know."

"What?" Isabelle replied frantically into the phone. "What's going on?"

"Don't fly off the handle, baby. Everyone's alright...Jax, Abel, they're both okay. I'll explain when I get there, okay?" Gemma told her and then promptly hung up.

That little bit of information only made her feel slightly better. Her instincts had initially screamed that something had happened to Jax or Abel or both and she felt a brief sigh of relief escape her lungs. But if Jax and Abel were both okay...what else had gone wrong? Who else was hurt? And why was Unser with her? He'd retired a few years ago...so what was he doing with Gemma now in the middle of the night?

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait for those answers for very long because within less than ten minutes, the doorbell was ringing. Isabelle rushed to throw open the front door with Cooper right on her heels, only to come face to face with an image reminiscent of her worst, most horrifying nightmares. Gemma tried to push a grin onto her battered face, but only managed a tight wince as Unser gripped her arm and helped her inside.

Isabelle could barely register what had happened here and not knowing where to look first, there was just too much to take in. Gemma's right eye had swollen shut while her left had a deep purple lining underneath it. The rest of her face was battered and bloodied, but it was the stiff way she ambled into the hallway that alarmed Isabelle. She recognized that stilted, numb movement and Isabelle froze in the doorway as everything came to a screeching halt. Instinct told her exactly what had happened, but she needed to ask the question anyway.

"Gemma," she pushed out hoarsely. "What happened?"

Gemma grimaced as she turned to look at her. "I know...I've seen better days, huh?"

Isabelle shook her head numbly as she trailed behind Gemma and Unser into the living room. While Gemma sank into the couch with slow, pained movements, Isabelle sprang to action, grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair and hastily wrapping it around Gemma's shoulders. She smiled back gratefully, even as she had to wince through every tiny facial movement and Isabelle felt her heart sink lower and lower into her stomach with each second that ticked by.

"I'm sorry to drag you outta bed like this," Gemma started, her voice dry and hoarse. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle leaned forward and gripped Gemma's hand tightly. "What happened?"

Gemma glanced anxiously at Unser. "Could you, uh...could I get something to drink?"

She knew exactly what Gemma was doing; she'd done it herself when the Feds had wanted to question her after she was brought to the hospital. The problem was you could only avoid talking about it for so long. Sooner or later, you were going to have to answer those difficult questions, whether or not you wanted to. What had happened to her, and what she feared had most likely happened to Gemma, wasn't something that could just be swept under the rug, at least not right away.

So, she decided to give Gemma the reprieve she needed and headed into the kitchen to make them a pot of coffee. But when she returned with their steaming mugs, she stared at Gemma expectantly, needing to finally get an answer to what she already knew had happened tonight. They sat there in deafening silence, soberly sipping from their mugs, and waiting patiently for Gemma to muster up the strength she needed to say what needed to be said.

Finally, Gemma gingerly pulled her mug into her lap with her eyes boring into the blackness of her coffee, and began to speak.

"I was at Jax's late tonight, tryin' to get the house ready for Abel to come home tomorrow and when I was on my back to the clubhouse, this girl runs up to my car, says her baby's choking," Gemma shook her head as she spoke. "So, like an idiot, I went with her to help. Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up in some goddamn warehouse, chained up like an animal. Some guys in masks were there, told me to tell my son to stop selling guns to coloreds. And then they started hitting me...over and over...and then…"

Isabelle knew what was coming next and reached up to grip Gemma's hand, offering her as much support as she could. She knew exactly what it was like, especially the first time, to have to relate the dirty, painful details when all you wanted to do was just curl up into a little ball and fade away into nothingness. But, at least from a medical and legal standpoint, she also knew how important it was to actually tell someone those details.

"Gemma," she prompted softly. "What happened?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and then took in a shaky breath. When Gemma opened her eyes again, fresh tears had threatened to fall and Isabelle could feel her own eyes watering with empathy and remorse.

"They raped me," Gemma whispered. "Every single one of them."

Isabelle squeezed her hand, tears falling freely down her cheeks now at having all her fears finally confirmed. Now, she knew what needed to happen next and jumped to take control of the situation, to do something, anything to help Gemma.

"Okay, so, here's what we're gonna do," Isabelle told her soothingly. "We gotta get to the hospital so that-"

"No," Gemma cut her off abruptly with a curt shake of her head. "No hospitals."

Isabelle leaned forward, frowning in disbelief. "What? Gemma...you have to go to the hospital. You need to see a doctor. You need to make sure that-"

"I'm not going, Isabelle," Gemma cut in coldly. "No hospitals, no police. I can't."

"Why?"

Gemma cast a sideways glance at Unser before shaking her head yet again. "No one else can know about this. No doctors. No cops. Nobody."

Blinking back in shock, Isabelle was completely stupefied for a moment. Then, cold realization settled over her. "You know who did this, don't you?"

"The same guys who met with Jax and Opie earlier today," Gemma nodded somberly. "I don't know the details, but I know enough to know that these guys wanted something the club wouldn't give. They're tryin' to use me to send Jax a message, but it's not gonna fuckin' happen."

"But, Gemma, you have to tell them...you can't keep this to yourself."

"Yes, I can," Gemma whispered back, the steel returning to her voice. "Because if I don't, then those assholes get what they want and then they win."

Having had enough experience with Gemma to know when she was fighting a losing battle, Isabelle knew instinctively that Gemma wasn't about to budge on this and, even though she didn't like it, she could understand her reasons. Still, that didn't mean she had to completely forego medical attention. That was something Isabelle wouldn't be able to let go.

"Okay, but you can still see a doctor without filing charges."

"No," Gemma shot it down immediately with a shake of her head. "They'll ask too many questions. That shit'll be charged to our insurance and then everyone will just find out anyways. I won't be able to explain that."

Isabelle's gaze flitted to Unser for help and then the pieces clicked together. "What if you just went in for the external injuries? Make sure nothing is broken, whatever they have to do...we could say you got into an accident or something."

Apprehension passed over Gemma's face, but at least it almost looked liked she was considering the idea, which was good enough for Isabelle.

"I'll take care of the accident part," Unser jumped in quietly. "Make it look real and everything so nobody will question what really happened."

"And then tomorrow, we'll find a free clinic out of town and get everything else checked out. Tests, prescriptions, whatever you else you need. And then it won't be charged to your insurance," Isabelle finished, hoping that would be enough to convince Gemma to do what needed to be done.

"I don't-"

"You have to, Gemma," Isabelle cut in softly. "You and I both know that I know what you're going through right now and trust me when I say that you need to see a doctor. Anything else beyond that is your choice and I'll respect that, but Gemma, you have to see a doctor. You'll regret it everyday if you don't."

She could see the resolve in Gemma's eyes crumbling and after a few heartwrenching moments of silent contemplation, Gemma nodded mutely as a wave of fresh tears streamed down her face. By the time they were sitting in Unser's car, with Isabelle holding Gemma's hand from the backseat, flashes from her most terrifying nightmares fought their way through her walls. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed them back, knowing that giving into her own traumatic memories wouldn't help either of them right now.

All of her focus needed to be on Gemma. Doing whatever Gemma needed, even if it meant just being there for her. Because if she allowed the memories to take root, there would be no going back. The floodgates would be open, forcing her to confront the feelings and the nightmares that haunted her every day since the moment Jax had knocked Jordan off of her in that motel room. It was exactly what her therapist had wanted for the past eight years and exactly what she'd fought tooth and nail against. She couldn't crumble now, not when the only real mother she had in her life needed her to stay strong.

She was just going to have to take her cues from Gemma because falling apart now was not an option.

* * *

**A/N-I'm sorry for the super-long wait for this update. I took a little vacation from everything during my Christmas break and it was kinda hard to get back into the swing of everything, including writing. Anyways, as I mentioned before, this is definitely going to be a slow-burn for Jax and Isabelle to finally figure everything out together, but I think you guys will be happy with how/why they finally get there. **

**The next chapter will be yet another (small) step forward for them after this one, which I think was a huge wake-up call for them both that not much as changed, at least where their feelings are concerned.**

**I hope everyone had a happy and safe holidays...I just can't believe they're over! Let me know what you thought of this update. Your feedback is always so helpful and encouraging. Thanks again!**


	4. Denial, Distraction, and Deflection

The waiting area near St. Thomas' emergency room was practically standing room only. With nearly all of Samcro packed into the already-cramped hallway, they were all really just biding their time now as they waited to see how their matriarch was doing. After Clay got the call from Unser that Gemma had been in an accident, no one had wasted any time in hustling their asses to the hospital to make sure she was alright.

And while Unser hadn't exactly stated the reason behind her accident, Jax had a pretty good feeling that his mother might have had a little bit too much to drink at his house before leaving for the night. He ran a hand over his slicked back hair with a sigh; he'd wanted to send a prospect over to his house to give her an extra hand, but she'd flatly refused.

Even though having a prospect there probably wouldn't have stopped the drinking, it most definitely could've stopped the driving. But, where his mother was concerned, he'd learned long ago that she didn't do anything she didn't want to do. If anything, he hoped that maybe this accident was the wake-up call she needed to quit doing this kind of shit, especially now that Abel was coming home today.

So when the doctor finally approached their overly large group, Jax jumped to his feet, glancing over his shoulder at Clay, who was shakily pushing himself up from his chair. The old man had never fully recovered from the bullet to the chest that had nearly killed him and with each year that passed, the salt and pepper coloring his hair and face turned fully gray and his frailty just became more pronounced as his arthritis kicked into high gear. Still, despite injury and old age, his love and devotion for his old lady had never wavered. Clay didn't exactly allow anyone to cater to his weaknesses and Jax figured that today, especially, would be no exception.

"How's she doin', doc?" Clay pushed out gruffly, unable to mask the concern in his gravelly voice.

"Well," the doctor started impassively. "She's sustained a minor head injury, but other than that, I'd say she's very lucky. There were a few cuts on her face that needed stitches, but as far as I can see, everything will heal."

Jax let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slapped Clay on the shoulder with a grin. "Hear that, old man? She's gonna be fine."

Clay just shook his head as the rest of the club descended on him with congratulatory back slaps and bro-hugs.

"So, can we see her?" Jax asked the doctor.

The doctor just shrugged nonchalantly. "You can see her now if you'd like. Her daughter's in there with her right now."

Jax's eyebrows shot into his forehead. "Daughter? Wha-"

Just as he was about to wrap his head around that, Isabelle stepped out of Gemma's hospital room and skidded to a halt, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Iz…" he trailed off, absentmindedly running a hand over his hair. "What are you, uh…"

She pressed a quick, almost nervous smile to her lips and took a cautious step towards him. "Gemma called me and told me about the accident...I got here as soon as I could. There's a lot of that going around here, I guess."

"And she called you before all us assholes, huh?"

"I think she didn't want to worry you guys," Isabelle shrugged, her eyes darting around anxiously as she spoke. "Unser insisted, I guess."

He nodded slowly and crossed his arms over his chest. There was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something in her voice and the way she seemed hesitant to even make eye contact with him alerted his instincts that something was off about all this. But, unfortunately, for him, he figured getting any sort of truth from her, or his mother for that matter, would be like pulling teeth.

"Well," Jax started again. "Thanks for this, Iz...I know how much it means to Gemma that you're here right now."

"It wasn't a big deal," she just lifted a shoulder and glanced quickly at a doctor who was sidestepping around them. "She needed me, so I just hopped in a cab and got here as soon as I could. I mean, I was just gonna come back here today anyways, you know? I just wanted to make sure she was okay before checking on my dad."

No one needed to tell him that was a little more information than he'd even begun to ask her for, but chose to sidestep the obvious. Besides, the longer she stood in front of him, the more the bags under her eyes became difficult to ignore. From what he could understand, his mother was going to be just fine, but Isabelle, on the other hand, definitely looked worse for the wear. And even if her strung together explanation was a little bit too detailed, it was logical and there was no point in sabotaging the miniscule headway he'd made with her yesterday by pushing the issue any further.

So, with little other options in front of him, he shot her a quick grin and ran a hand over his scruff. "So, uh...I'll send a prospect over here to take you back whenever you want."

"You don't have to do that," Isabelle shook her head quickly. "I thought my insurance company was sending over a loaner anyways."

"You're still gonna need a way to get back to T-M, am I right?"

A soft smile touched her beautiful lips and he fought back the urge to reach out to touch her cheek. Even though it was clear she planned on curtailing every attempt he made to help her, he could see the resolve slowly crumble in her eyes. Sooner or later, she was just going to have to accept that as long as she was still in Charming, he was going to do whatever she needed. The fact that she may not be particularly happy about it was obsolete because he might never get the chance again.

So, he couldn't stop the wide grin that spread across his face when she pushed out a resigned sigh and shrugged her shoulders. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"I, uh, should probably go check on my dad now," Isabelle whispered and moved to step around him.

Like a moth to the flame, he trailed after her until they were walking side by side towards the elevator. Isabelle held her shoulders stiff, almost as if she were on high alert, casting him a few sideways glances as they moved together. All he really wanted to do was just walk her to the elevator. He knew she wouldn't let him get much farther and that was good enough for him for now.

Isabelle hastily hit the button, her chest heaving as she cast him another glance out of the corner of her eyes.

"Just come down by the main entrance whenever you're ready," he told her quietly. "I'll have a prospect waitin' for you, okay?"

She swallowed tightly and nodded back to him. "Okay...thanks, Jax."

He pressed a quick smile on his face as he leaned back to start backpedalling away from her. "Anytime, Iz."

Even as the elevator doors closed, he kept his gaze firmly on her, watching intently as her features twisted and her chest heaved. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable or anxious, but he also couldn't apologize for needing to be as close to her for as long as possible.

When the elevator closed, he turned on his heel, running a hand over his hair. It didn't take him long to join back up with the rest of the club, careful to avoid eye contact with his VP, and they also didn't have to wait long for his mother to make her appearance from her hospital room. When Gemma gingerly stepped out from the room with Clay's arms wrapped around her, Jax had to do a double-take.

His eyes widened in shock...what the fuck kind of accident did she get into? She looked like she'd been run over by T-M's tow truck with the bloodied, battered bruises marring her face. Not to mention the fact that she had one black eye and the other was partially closed. Pushing aside his initial disbelief, he gathered his mother tightly into his arms.

"Jesus Christ, Ma," he exhaled into her ear.

"I know...I look like shit, right?" Gemma laughed mirthlessly and he felt her collapse just a little bit deeper into his chest.

When she pulled her head away from his chest, he gingerly reached out to her cheek. Just his hand brushing against her skin made her wince in pain and he immediately withdrew his hand.

"Sorry, Mom," he apologized with a grimace.

"Don't worry about it, baby," Gemma replied hoarsely and gestured to her face. "Courtesy of the steering wheel."

"Shit...how fast were you goin'?"

"Don't know," she just shrugged. "I had a couple drinks before I left your house...I know I should've called somebody, but I thought I was fine."

He rose his eyebrows at her, his suspicions finally confirmed, and kissed her forehead. "So...Isabelle's your daughter now, huh?"

Gemma just rolled her eyes and leaned her head into his shoulder. "I had to tell them something so they'd let her sit with me. It's not like it was really a lie, you know."

"Right," he cocked an eyebrow at her and threw an arm around her shoulders as they started down the hall. "Well, I'm glad you're alright, Ma. We got a big day today, remember?"

Gemma's face broke out into a warm smile, albeit a pained one. "Like I could forget...my baby boy's comin' home today. Shit, I've still got so much to do...groceries to buy, I didn't finish cleaning at your place either-"

Clay shook his head at her and pulled her hand up to his lips. "Come on, Gem. You heard what the doc said in there. You gotta take it easy for a couple of days. Let the prospects take care of that shit."

"Oh no," Gemma protested. "I'm not letting some prospect who doesn't know his dick from his asshole in charge of my grandbaby's homecoming party. No fuckin' way."

"Come on, Ma...just go home, rest for a little while. Let the prospects do all the bitch work and you can tell them to change whatever you want when you get there, okay?" Jax reasoned with her, figuring that as long as she knew she'd still have control over the whole event, she'd probably give in sooner or later.

His mother appraised him with dark, stern eyes, even in spite of her current condition. "If I say yes, will you drop it?"

Jax lifted his eyes to the ceiling, knowing exactly what that meant. Gemma was gonna be Gemma, no matter any of them said or did, and would boss the prospects around however she saw fit.

"Yeah, Ma," he grinned back at her. "I'll drop it."

Gemma pressed an artificial smile across her lips and snarked back, "Then yes."

He chuckled and gently kissed her temples. When Gemma was tucked safely in Clay's truck, Jax found himself backpedalling back towards the hospital's main entrance. Fucking moth to the flame...but he wasn't ashamed. Seeing as how he'd learned from the best, he wasn't about to let an opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Yo, Prez!" Tig called out from the parking lot. "Where you goin'? You gonna go see your kid?"

Shit. Guilt shot through him for a split second, but it passed just as quickly as it came. Abel was coming home today and so, he didn't exactly feel too bad that he wasn't heading back into the hospital to see his son.

"Uh, I just gotta take care of a few things," Jax called back, acutely aware of Opie's knowing, smug salute to him as he passed.

Taking care of a few things involved stopping by the cafeteria for the first thing he could get his hands on, which happened to be a decent-looking bagel, and a cup of coffee. Next, he was back in the elevator and hit the button to take him to the ICU. Checking in with a nurse at the main desk was unnecessary since he'd been here a week ago to not only settle Samuel Martin's bill, but to sit with him for a little while too. He knew exactly where the room was.

Stopping short right in the doorway, he allowed himself a moment to take in the sight of Isabelle hunched over in a chair, sketching absentmindedly into a notebook. The pencil's strokes were slow and languid, barely skimming the paper, and he stood up on his toes a little to try to get a better glimpse of what was in that notebook. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this image in front of him...at least before his six-month stint in Stockton. Too fucking long.

Readjusting his grip on Isabelle's breakfast, he rapped lightly on the door, making her head snap up at the sound. Her eyes widened slightly and before she could protest, he held up the bagel and coffee with a grin.

"I was on my way out and figured I'd make sure you got some breakfast," he told her.

So, maybe it wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't exactly imperative for her to know that either. Still, he didn't give her the opportunity to contest and hastily set the plate and the cup down on the tray next to her. Before he could even glance at the notebook, she'd already snapped it shut and shoved it haphazardly into her purse.

"Uh...thanks, Jax."

He shoved his hands into his pockets goodnaturedly. "No problem. I guess it was the least I could do…you know with you bein' there for Gemma this morning."

"Right."

Rocking back and forth on his heels, he was suddenly aware that staying any longer here in her dad's hospital room might be overstepping just a little. He hadn't been invited and he also hadn't been asked to stay, so-

"So, um," Isabelle's quiet voice jerked him from his thoughts. "Do you wanna sit down?"

He didn't need to be told twice and shuffled around the bed to settle into the chair across from Isabelle, figuring she'd appreciate the space.

"How's he doin'?"

Isabelle sighed deeply before bringing sad blue eyes up to meet his. "The same, I guess. They're just trying to keep him comfortable now."

"Has he woken up much? Or is he just…" he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the fact that her dad was lying here just waiting to die.

"He's woken up a few times while I've been here, but it didn't last very long. His doctor told me it was probably better if he wasn't awake much anyways."

Jax nodded slowly, running a hand over his mouth. "Can he hear us right now?"

Isabelle just lifted a shoulder and reached for the bagel he'd set down for her. "Not sure...the nurses seem to think he can, but I think they're just sayin' that, you know?"

He leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, watching her with careful precision. "Doesn't mean it's not true, Iz."

Shrugging again, she bite into the bagel and he felt a brief flood of relief wash over him to see her eating. Opie's words about her health had been on loop in his head ever since their conversation last night and the more he thought about it, the harder it was get Isabelle's pale, thin frame out of his mind. Part of him wanted to believe his initial concern was driven purely from his overprotective tendencies when it came to her and he'd almost believed it as the night wore on. But then, when he'd all but run into her outside Gemma's room this morning, she'd just seemed so dead on her feet.

She pulled her knees up into her chest with the bagel plate still in hand and sighed. "Is it terrible that I just want it to be over?"

Jax swallowed tightly and shook his head. "No, Iz, it's not."

"I just don't want him to suffer anymore," she whispered. "Ever since my mom...he was just never the same. You know, I spent so much of my life trying to be him, or at least, trying to be what he wanted me to be...Stanford, law school, and I don't know when he stopped being my dad and became someone so...unhappy. Nothing was ever good enough for him; no matter what I did, what kind of grades I brought home, I never felt like I was good enough."

She paused for just a moment, running a hand over her face and shooting him a quick, pained smile. He couldn't have moved if he tried; even if her talking like this to him was more than he could've ever hoped for by coming up here, he could see in her every movement, every gesture, that she needed to purge and he wasn't fucking going anywhere.

"The first time he ever saw my drawings, he told me to stop doodling and do my homework," she laughed bitterly and shook her head. "My mom was a little more supportive, telling me to take more art classes and stuff like that, but there was never really any room in my schedule...I guess American Lit. just took up too much of my time, right?"

She glanced up at him with a soft smile playing at her lips at that simple mention of their shared history and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Anyways," she went on quietly. "I thought he was gonna disown me when I quit Stanford. I think he almost did...he was so disappointed in me. Sometimes I think he was more pissed about the tuition money going down the drain than anything, but in spite of all that, I wish I had done things differently, you know?"

"You mean art school?" he frowned.

"No," she waved a hand in the air to prove her point. "I don't regret that for a second. I'm doing exactly what I should be doing and I did it on my terms. I'll never regret that. I just wish that I'd pushed harder in the beginning for rehab or more counseling or something. I think I just felt so guilty over leaving school that I didn't want to push and I let him get away with it. I don't know how many times I found him on the floor in the bathroom and I just let it happen. I mean, how many times did we bring him home from bars? I think I lost count after a while and I didn't really want to think about that anyways. I didn't want him to lose his job; I didn't want him to lose what little dignity he had left...but, I shouldn't have done it. I should've forced his ass into rehab, had an intervention, _anything_, but I was just stupid and scared."

He didn't know what to tell her. Even though he'd never admit it to her, he'd always thought there were other, more productive ways to handle her dad's problems than the way she had, but then again, everything else she'd said had been true too. He was her dad and she still loved him, still wanted to protect him, as much as she could, and Jax could never fault her for that either. One of the things he'd always loved about her was her ability to love unconditionally and after having once been on the receiving end of that love, he knew how invaluable it was.

"You did the best you could, Iz," he told her hoarsely. "You can't blame yourself for this...it's not your fault."

"Maybe not completely, but I still should've done more than I did. I know it's not going to change things now," she went on softly. "And even after all the shit that's gone down between us, he's still my dad, you know? Seeing him like this...barely hanging on...I just don't want him to feel that way anymore. These last few years, he tried so hard. He really did. He knew he had a problem. He knew things had to change, but it was just too late. I think it just prolonged the inevitable. Rehab and counseling can only do so much, I guess. All I can do now is hope he doesn't have to wait too long."

He waited a few beats as he gathered his thoughts in an effort to come up with something that would matter. "If there's anything you need...anything...you know you can ask, right, Iz?"

"I know," she nodded sadly. "Thanks, Jax."

They sat there across from each other in silence for a few moments as he struggled to come up with something else to say. If he couldn't figure something out soon, his reasons for being here would quickly dwindle down to just about nothing. So, he opened his mouth and let the word vomit commence.

"Abel's comin' home today."

As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he bit back a grimace and on reflex, a hand reached up to rub his mouth awkwardly. Of all the fuckin things to say…that was not the best choice. It wasn't necessarily a secret that Isabelle was very aware Abel existed, as well as how his existence had come about, but that didn't mean they needed to talk about it. Any ground he'd just gained with her was completely shredded now...what the fuck was he thinking?

Instead of freezing him out, she shocked him by smiling softly and replying: "Yeah, I know. I've...um...seen him actually. I hope that's okay."

All ability to speak left him. He'd expected her to shut down. He'd expected her to withdraw any of the friendliness and openness she'd just shown him...but not this. Not knowing how to wrap his head around what she'd just laid down on him, he could only blink back, shell-shocked and dumbstruck.

"Uh...yeah," he finally stammered back. "Of course it's okay."

"Sometimes, I just need to get out of this room for a little bit. I guess I just sorta end up there," Isabelle revealed with that smile still playing at her lips.

His lips parted to speak, but he couldn't find the words. Isabelle was gazing back at him with soft, warm blue eyes and he couldn't look away.

"He's beautiful, Jax," she whispered.

Jax swallowed tightly, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. "Yeah, he's...uh…"

"A miracle?" she offered with a warm smile.

He grinned and looked down at his hands, too overcome with emotion to keep his eyes on her much longer. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

"I'm glad he's coming home."

All he could do was force a grim smile on his face. He didn't know what to say or how to address the knowledge that not only had she seen Abel, but that they were openly discussing him. This room felt so small now and he had a sudden urge to make a quick exit. He wasn't equipped to handle this shit, at least not right now, with her dad lying in a hospital bed between them.

"I, uh, I should probably get goin'," he pushed himself up from the chair as he spoke.

She nodded silently and as he brushed past her to head towards the door, he froze when her fingers closed around his left hand. Isabelle stared up at him with swimming blue eyes and he felt his heart twist in his chest.

"Thank you, Jax," she murmured. "For everything."

Feeling his heart wrench and jerk around his chest yet again, all he could was swallow tightly and nod. Just the feel of her soft skin against his was enough to completely knock him sideways. After being starved of her touch for far too long, finally feeling it again, even if was just for a moment, was almost more than he could handle.

"Anytime, Iz," he pushed out roughly and as their fingers slipped away from each other, he turned back towards the door.

He only allowed himself to look over his shoulder once and his heart just about stopped when he realized she was staring right back at him. So, with a heavy exhale, he forced a smile on his face and walked out the door.

* * *

"Gemma, you've seriously lost your mind if you think I'm gonna let you leave," Isabelle huffed and put her hands on her hips, standing her ground in front of the doorway.

"And I told you," Gemma snapped back. "That there is no way I'm letting some half-brained, dickless prospect in charge of my grandson's party."

"You need to rest, Gemma. You heard what the doctors said. You can still go to the party later, but you need to rest."

Gemma cocked a hand on her hip, narrowing her dark dagger-like eyes into tiny slits. "I don't need to rest. I've got better, more important things to do, like make sure this party is ready for tonight. That's what I need to do."

Isabelle opened her mouth to reply, but Half-Sack abruptly stepped in with his hands in the air to force them to push some distance between them.

"Now, ladies, listen...okay? First of all, I have a dick, okay? I'm just missing a testicle-"

Gemma's shark-like eyes darted over to the prospect. "Can it, Half-Sack and get outta my way."

"Ma'am," Half-Sack pleaded. "Boss told me I gotta take care of this party stuff for you...please don't make this any harder than it has to be. I promise I won't screw it up; I'll buy everything on your list; I'll do whatever you say, but you gotta stay here."

"I'm not takin' orders today," Gemma shot back. "Especially not from you."

Isabelle fought the urge to roll her eyes and rubbed a hand across her face instead. Gemma, in all her stubborn, insufferable glory, didn't realize that she was just making shit harder on herself. Acting out like this wasn't going to help her and it certainly wasn't going to erase what happened the night before. But ever since they'd left the free clinic in Lodi an hour ago, Gemma seemed to have made it her mission to just go about her day as normal, zeroing in all her energy and focus on Abel's party tonight. The prospect, sanctioned by Jax, had shown up a little later and they'd been able to cite a 'lunch run' to explain away their absence. But the more both Isabelle and Half-Sack begged and pleaded with Gemma to lay down, the more she resisted and the more hostile she became. This was an act Isabelle knew well-the three D's, as her therapist put it. Denial, distraction, and deflection. Over the years, she'd become alarmingly talented in the art of the three D's and what Gemma was doing now was no different.

But she also knew how imperative it was that Gemma allow herself a few moments to process and if that wasn't an option, she just needed to sleep for a little while. Life seemed a little less hopeless after a few hours of sleep.

"Hey, Kip," Isabelle turned her eyes towards the despondent prospect. "Can you give us a couple minutes here?"

Half-Sack threw his hands up in the air and scurried out the backdoor in the kitchen. When the door shut behind him, Isabelle released an exasperated sigh. Gemma was starting to resemble a petulant child with her arms crossed angrily over her chest and looking anywhere but at her. _Jesus Christ_, she thought. _Talk about a role reversal_.

"Look, Gem," she began carefully. "I know how important this party is to you...I get it, okay? But you need-"

"I told you last night, Isabelle," Gemma cut in abruptly. "I'm not letting them win. I'm not gonna let them take everything that matters to me and fuck it completely, alright? I don't care what they think they can do or-"

"Wait, Gemma, what did they threaten you with?"

Gemma blew out a deep breath and leaned against the table. "They said they'd do it again if I didn't give Jax the message."

"Shit," Isabelle exhaled and with one hand covering her mouth, she reached out with the other for Gemma, who curtly sidestepped her touch.

"Enough with the hugging and all that shit," Gemma chided her with a lop-sided grin. "It's alright. I'm not gonna break, sweetheart. I just need to make sure everything's taken care of for tonight, then I'll rest. I promise."

Even though she knew she was going to regret it later, Isabelle just couldn't stop herself. She had to do something, anything, to help Gemma, and right now, it looked like this was the only way.

"I'll do it, okay, Gem? The groceries, whatever else you need. Just give me a list and I'll take care of it."

"Isabelle, you don't have to do that-"

She held out a hand to stop her. "I don't mind, Gem. It's fine. As long as you promise me that you'll rest, it's fine."

There wasn't much Gemma could say to argue with that, so she lifted a shoulder and Isabelle reached out to grasp her hand.

"Thanks, sweetie."

"Anytime, Gemma," Isabelle smiled back sadly. "I love you, you know."

For a brief moment, the hard exterior softened and Isabelle thought that she might have broken through, if only for a second. Then, a moment later, it was gone and that hard mask of steel, one she knew so well, was back in its place. Still, just seeing that one brief moment was enough justify what she was about to do.

And that feeling of generosity and empathy carried Isabelle all the way through grocery shopping with Half-Sack, right up until she found herself sitting in the driveway of the house that she'd once lived in; the very same house that held so many of the memories she'd spent eight years trying to push aside, and now, she was seriously regretting that brief moment of clarity.

What the hell was she doing here? There was no way she could go inside..this wasn't her house anymore. Going inside could be just setting herself up for a potential breakdown and she'd have no one to blame but herself. But as the prospect sent her a sympathetic glance and promptly slid out of the truck to get the groceries, she realized how stupid she was being. The childish, immature thing to do right now would be to sit here in the truck and wait. No, she was an adult. The life she'd had in this house was in the past and a mature, well-adjusted adult should be able to handle going inside for a few minutes.

Well, at least she could pretend to be a mature, well-adjusted adult for a few minutes. That might feel good. No denial, distraction, or deflection here.

_You're not weak,_ she coached herself. _You're strong and you can go inside, unpack those groceries, make sure the house is in order, and then you're going to leave. This is for Gemma. That's it._

No big deal. No problem.

With those thoughts running through her mind, she pushed open the passenger side door before she talked herself out of it. It was like her body was on autopilot, just propelling her up the sidewalk and through the front door as if it had a will of its own and maybe it did. Because before long, she found herself standing in the kitchen where she'd made so many ill-fated attempts at dinner for Jax.

Half-Sack turned around from the counter, his eyes wide and slightly terrified. His hand had frozen mid-reach into a random grocery bag and he gulped, as he was bracing himself for...something.

"What?" Isabelle shrugged as she strode up beside him at the counter.

He grimaced and ran a hand through his curls. "I...uh...I just-"

"You just forgot I used to live here?" Isabelle finished for him and just waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."

There. All those years of putting up a facade were definitely paying off.

With a brief, albeit hesitant nod, Half-Sack jumped back into unpacking the groceries and Isabelle had to wonder how many times he'd done this, or, at least helped Gemma do this because he seemed to know exactly where everything went. But as she got to work, she wasn't entirely surprised to see that everything in the kitchen was almost exactly the way she'd left it. All the dishes, silverware, even the tupperware, was in the exact same place and it was almost like she'd never left. No, no, no...thoughts like that weren't going to help her finish this job any faster. A distraction was in order.

"Hey, Kip? Can I ask you a question?"

Half-Sack stuck his out from behind the refrigerator door. "Sure."

"Well, um, I've just been wondering...you know when I came to the clubhouse the other night? And you knew me? I guess it's just been bothering me or something, but I was just wondering how you…"

She trailed off when Half-Sack's face froze like a deer in headlights.

"I promise I won't tell Jax or anyone else," she added quickly. "I don't want to get you in trouble, especially after you've been so nice to me and Gemma today...I was just curious."

"Uh, well," Half-Sack rubbed the back of his neck, indecision written over his face. "I...uh…"

"Please, Kip?" she pleaded and threw in a couple batted eyelashes just for good measure.

He blinked once and then laughed uncomfortably, his face turning a little red. "I haven't been around the clubhouse for every long, just like a year or so, but all I know is that I'm not really supposed to talk about you or ask questions or…"

Half-Sack trailed off and he must have realized that he had inadvertently said too much in the little information he'd offered because his eyes just about bugged right out of his head. Isabelle opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find the words. That wasn't even remotely close to what she'd been expecting. Granted, she wasn't so sure what she'd been expecting...but it wasn't that. She didn't know what to do with this information or how to even begin to process it.

"I...um, I'm just gonna run to the bathroom real quick," she told him and didn't wait for a response to head towards the bathroom in the main hallway.

She shut the door behind her and rested against it for a few moments to gather up some semblance of strength. Jesus, even being in this bathroom was difficult. Living here almost seemed like a dream, a figment of her cruel imagination to mess with her head. How did they get here? How had she become a stranger in the house Jax had bought for her so long ago? How did they get to the point where she could barely step foot back in Charming and Jax couldn't hear her name spoken out loud in the clubhouse?

There was a clear trajectory of where their collision course had converged...the baby, Jax's prison sentence, their break-up, Salazar, Jordan...she knew when it had happened and how, but it still just didn't make any sense.

The life she'd thought she would be living here in Charming with Jax had just slipped right through her fingers and she still didn't understand why.

If just a few things had been different, if they hadn't lost the baby, if Jax hadn't gone to prison, her life would be so different now. And while on paper, her life in LA was everything anyone could ever possibly want-her last three showcases had completely sold out, she had a beautiful, expensive condo two blocks away from the gallery she shared with her best friend, she had an awesome dog, and an even more awesome wardrobe, thanks to Bennett-but none of it felt real. It still felt like she was living in a dream, except this time, it was more of a living nightmare.

With a deep sigh, she pushed herself off the door and pulled it open. She'd been in here long enough already, wallowing in self-pity and despair and she couldn't afford to spend any more time and any more energy on things she couldn't change. As she stepped out into the hallway, her eyes fell on the third bedroom.

The door was half-open, revealing just a hint of what was inside. Like a moth to the flame, her legs carried her right up to the entrance and her left hand was pushing it completely open before she even knew what was happening.

Her senses flooded as she stepped deeper inside and there was no stopping herself now. Pastel blue covered each wall, with a deep crib on one end of the room and a cushy futon on the other. A lone rocking chair rested in the corner next to the crib and as Isabelle ventured further inside the nursery, she fought the urge to sink down into the futon and curl up into a tiny ball. The letters of Abel's name had been fastened carefully over his crib in alternating blue and yellow colors and the entire mattress was littered with plush stuffed animals and wayward pairs of socks and onesies.

She didn't even realize she was crying until a tear slipped down her cheek and landed square in the middle of the hand covering her mouth.

This was wrong. She shouldn't be in here like this, snooping around and invading Jax's privacy. She didn't live here anymore...and the baby coming home tonight wasn't hers and she didn't belong here. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

As if to reiterate the point, her eyes collided onto the two picture frames that sat on the dresser near the door. Each one held a sonogram showing the tiny outlines of a brand new baby and she couldn't take anymore. Her feet couldn't carry her out of the room fast enough, but as she whipped past the dresser, a number on one of the sonograms had her skidding to an abrupt stop.

Leaning in to inspect the corner of the sonogram to her left a little closer, she squinted to get a better look at the faded numbers. Her mouth twisted as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing, her eyes darting over to the second sonogram for confirmation. The second sonogram had the words Case, Wendy in the upper lefthand corner followed by the doctor's name and date. That made sense. But when her eyes flew back to the slightly worn sonogram to her left, she leaned in even closer to try to discern what was written there.

Her own name, followed her old doctor's name, and numbers dated eight years ago stared back at her and her heart plummeted to her stomach.

Tears fell freely down her cheeks now as a hand shot up to cover her mouth. He'd kept it...all these years. Her copy was buried at the bottom of a box somewhere in her condo, along with the torn and yellowed note Jax had given her before leaving her in her dorm at CalArts, but here his was, framed and displayed proudly for all to see.

This was too much. She didn't know how to handle this. She didn't even know where to start with the floodgates that had just been ripped open and shredded to pieces. Squeezing her eyes shut, another round of tears streamed down her face. Then her eyes flew open at the sound of a tell-tale motorcycle engine and a few moments later, the front door was opening and closing. And then she heard it.

"Yo, Sack! What's the hold-up here? I thought I told you to stay with Gemma."

Isabelle froze at the sound of Jax's voice and then her hands flew up to her face, furiously wiping away the tears that had forged their way down her cheeks. With her chest heaving, her eyes darted around the room anxiously as she tried to put together some kind of way out of this.

But there was really nothing she could do except pull herself together and walk out into the hallway. There weren't any other options. She'd gone into this room, even though she'd known it was a terrible idea, and now, it was time to face the music.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes one last time in a futile attempt at eradicating evidence of her tears and with a haggard inhale for strenght, she treaded uneasily out into the hallway. When she found Jax standing leisurely near the doorway, swinging his keys around his index finger, she stopped short in mid-step. Momentary shock flickered across Jax's face and then his eyebrows shot up into his forehead.

"I...uh, I was just helping with the groceries," Isabelle sputtered helplessly, grasping for any sort of excuse her mind could muster to explain her presence in his house. "I'm sorry...Gemma, um, needed to rest, but she wouldn't let Kip do it, so I went with him so she'd sleep...and, um…"

She was floundering here, barely staying afloat and unable to stop the slew of awkward stammering that flew out of her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess the prospects can be a little useless sometimes, huh?" Jax grinned back at her before pulling his eyes pointedly to Half-Sack, who had stalled in the entryway to the kitchen.

Some sort of telepathic communication passed between them and no less than a half a beat later, Half-Sack waved sheepishly at her and hoofed it out the front door as fast as he could. Now, Jax was appraising her with quiet eyes, deep concern etched into his forehead.

"I was, um, just using the bathroom...we're pretty much done here anyways. I should, um, have Kip take me back to Gemma's so I can check on her," she stammered, her voice thick and hoarse.

It didn't do her much good because her explanation sounded lame and contrived even to her own ears. And when Jax's eyes flicked behind her, landing squarely on the nursery door to her left, she knew any further attempt at deflection would be pointless.

"Thanks for your help," he told her softly. "I didn't realize Gemma asked you to-"

"She didn't," Isabelle cut in and took a hesitant further down the hallway. "She needed to rest, so…"

His eyes softened and his head tilted to the side a little as he ventured towards her with careful, cautious movements. Having lived here for a few months, she was well aware that the quickest way out of this house was through the front door. But, in order to do that, she was going to have to get by Jax first. With no other options, she did her best to put on a brave face and kept moving. Something just shut off in her completely, some part of her brain that told her legs what to do, and suddenly, she was standing right in front of him...so close she could smell the leather.

All she could see was the anguish and concern and understanding in his deep blue, swimming eyes and then without any hesitation, she leaned forward until she could bury her face in his chest. Everything else just fell away when she felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her into him even tighter. Nothing else mattered and the familiar sense of security and protection she'd always felt in his arms enveloped her once again.

She breathed him in, filling her senses with leather, gasoline, and something else that was just him, and she felt almost intoxicated by what surrounded her. One of his hands was in her hair now while the other clung to her for dear life and for a fleeting moment, she never wanted him to let go. It was amazing how just one embrace, one simple touch, and she was completely purged of all the painful memories and all the demons that chased after her. It was like no time had passed, like nothing had torn them apart, and all that was left was the electrical connection still between them.

Getting caught up in his arms was dangerous, but she had to allow herself a few moments of living on the edge. This just felt too good. This just felt too...much.

His hands were closing around her face now so he could brush a few stray tears away with his thumbs. Her eyes collided with his and his face was so dangerously close. Her eyes squeezed shut again as his thumb moved across her cheek. When she pulled her gaze back up to him, her breath caught in her throat at the tender, warm expression in his eyes and everything else just stopped. He leaned forward, his calloused hands still pressed around her cheeks, and then paused, as if he was waiting for some sort of sign from her to go further.

Her chin tilted up ever so slightly to give him better access and then her hand was inching up the length of his leather cut. As his head dipped even lower, their noses brushed against each other. Jax leaned back for a split second, as if to silently ask permission, and after finding whatever he was looking for, his lips grazed across her cheek. Just as his lips began a light trail towards her lips, the front door burst open, startling Isabelle right out of his arms.

"Hey, boss," Half-Sack called out to them, waving his cell phone at them and momentarily oblivious. "Ope is on the phone tryin' to find...oh shit."

Isabelle could've sworn she heard Jax growl and she gingerly sidestepped around him to make a break for the front door.

"I'll just, uh, wait in the truck," she pushed out roughly and didn't allow herself to even glance over her shoulder as she flew out the door as fast as her feet could carry her.

By the time she was sitting back in the truck, everything felt a little hazy. None of what had just happened seemed real. She was in a fog, trying to push through the debris and unable to find her way to the surface. Between stepping back inside that house, to seeing Abel's nursery...the sonogram...the feel of Jax's strong arms shielding her and comforting her, just like he'd always done...how easy it was to just get swept up in him again...it was all too much to handle.

A moment of weakness. That's all it was. Born out of momentary insanity and frazzled nerves. Given everything that had happened over the last 24 hours, it wasn't entirely a surprise that she'd had such an epic slip-up. Getting too close Jax was like playing with fire. Sooner or later, she was going to get burned and as far as she was concerned, she'd just narrowly avoided scalding herself. Nothing good would've come from what would have happened if Half-Sack hadn't interrupted them.

While she didn't even want to begin to think about what it would've felt like to feel his lips on more than just her cheek, it was a slippery slope that she couldn't afford to slide down. She was just barely hanging on as it was, just barely keeping it together, and putting herself in that position with Jax wasn't going to make matters any easier.

When Half-Sack slid into the driver's side, she'd somehow managed to recover and gotten her breathing under control. A quick glance in the general direction of the front door told her that Jax had disappeared into the depths of the house. It was just as well and probably easier this way anyways. He was probably already engrossed in club business and she needed to get back to Gemma's to make sure she was okay.

Life and circumstance had just thrown them in each other's path in one fleeting lapse of judgment. That's all it was.

At least, that's what she had to tell herself.

As Half-Sack put the truck into reverse and started backing them out of the driveway, he rubbed the side of his head with a twisted, pained grimace.

"Is everything okay, Kip?" Isabelle frowned.

"Yeah, uh," Half-Sack stammered, glancing back at her with wide, guilty eyes. "Boss just sorta...punched me in the head."

"Oh...are you alright?"

Half-Sack winced and rubbed his head again anxiously. "I think he might actually kill me later, so...yeah, there's that."

Isabelle couldn't stop the tiny smile that spread across her lips. Picturing Jax's reaction to his prospect interrupting them, as inappropriate and ridiculous as it was, just made the smile spread even wider.

* * *

**A/N-So, this arctic cold front has turned out to be a great excuse to just sit and write. Nothing like wind chills of -45 degrees to keep you going, right?**

**Quick thanks to Kerry for her note earlier today. I had a good laugh from that review you were talking about and have since blocked that particular user ;) Thanks for your encouragement!**

**This chapter was all about them slowly moving forward, inch by inch, even if it was at a snail's pace. I know you guys probably wanted an actual kiss between them back there, but it can't be that easy, right? They came close and the next chapter will get them even closer. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited; your feedback is always greatly appreciated. Let me know what you thought of this chapter!**


	5. Safe Haven

After sitting in this hospital room for the past two weeks, Isabelle was finally starting to get restless. The occasion bathroom or food break just wasn't really cutting it anymore and gradually, her breaks grew longer and longer. Even now, with Abel gone from the NICU for a week, she was still able to conjure up excuses to get out of this room for awhile. Sometimes she would just sit in the cafeteria and draw in her notebook; other times, she'd somehow find herself in the chapel, looking for peace that wasn't there. And when all else failed, she'd start laps around the floor until her guilt carried her back inside her dad's room, like she was doing now.

It was just getting harder and harder to watch. Two weeks of just...nothing. No change, good or bad. Just nothing, minus the few times his eyes fluttered open and then shut again just as quickly.

She'd meant what she'd told Jax the morning after Gemma's attack: she just wanted it to be over. Before, she'd been speaking solely about her father and his suffering. Now, unfortunately, she was starting to lump herself into the equation and her conscience wasn't exactly taking that lightly.

The guilt was eating away at her, but she couldn't shake this restlessness. This feeling that something, somehow, had to give. Why couldn't he just let go? Why was he holding on? Why couldn't he just find peace? Sooner or later, his body would finally expel itself and this would all be over for both of them, but the frustration just wouldn't allow itself to be shoved aside, as hard as she tried.

So, as another wave of guilt crashed over her, she found herself turning the corner to head back down the brightly lit hallway back to her dad's hospital room. Passing a few familiar nurses, who nodded and smiled back at her, she stopped short in front of Half-Sack's post. She tilted her head to the side as she observed the sleeping prospect, trying to decide if she should wake him. It wasn't like he was much good to her asleep on the job, even if she didn't really need a bodyguard.

Since the disaster at Jax's house a week ago, Isabelle had worked overtime to avoid him at all costs. She suspected that he'd taken pains in respecting her space too, but that hadn't stopped him from keeping the prospect at her dad's hospital room. Her insurance company had sent over a loaner within two days of her accident, but said loaner was just sitting in her dad's driveway because every day, Half-Sack was there with a T-M truck to take her to and from the hospital.

She initially hadn't protested too much when Half-Sack first started showing up at the house, but she did, however, have a problem with him stationing himself right outside her dad's room. As far as she was concerned, she didn't need a babysitter and she certainly didn't need a bodyguard. But there was really no point in arguing, especially since arguing meant she'd have to come face to face with the man giving Half-Sack orders.

And after the close call they'd had the week before, she was willing to do just about anything to avoid having to see him, even if it meant allowing herself to be driven around like a little kid. Of course, she knew that if Jax wanted to force her hand, and make her fucking uncomfortable, he'd be driving her around himself.

So, with a heavy sigh, she gingerly kicked Half-Sack's foot with hers. When he jerked awake, his half-hooded eyes darting around frantically, she had to bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"What?" Half-Sack asked half-drowsy, half-manic. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Kip," she laughed. "I just figured I'd do you a solid in case anyone else from the club happened to show up here today."

"Oh shit...is someone comin'?"

"Ah, I don't think so. I guess I'm not sure why anyone would stop by today...but I don't think your boss would be too happy if he knew you were sleeping on the job, huh?" She grinned back at him.

"Yeah," he grimaced and rubbed his face with his hands. "Shit...yeah, you're right."

"You okay?"

Half-Sack's eyes widened and he rubbed his hands nervously on his jeans. "Yeah, uh, long night is all."

She didn't need the details and she definitely didn't want them. Whatever had kept him up late last night was most certainly club business, but she hadn't needed to worry about that shit for eight years and she wasn't going to start now.

But, unfortunately, just as she turned her heel to head back to her dad's room, she caught sight of a remnant of a past she'd fought so hard to push aside, just one more ghost that she'd forced herself to forget had ever existed. Special Agent June Stahl, in her ill-fitting pants suit and two other agents she didn't recognize, was headed straight right for her. It was like she was trapped in a time warp, suddenly transported back in time when Stahl and Jordan had pulled her right out of T-M's office and into a squad car to interrogate her about Jax's involvement with Samcro.

Feeling like the walls were closing in on her, she groped helplessly for solid ground and found it only when Half-Sack gripped her arm to keep her upright.

"What's goin' on, Isabelle?" he whispered to her. "Are those people who I think they are?"

"Yeah," she exhaled.

"I should probably call the boss, right?"

"Yeah, Kip," she nodded helplessly. "You should probably call the boss."

By the time Half-Sack released her and was backpedalling deeper into the hallway, Stahl and her cronies were already standing right in front of her. Even after all this time, just the sight of that woman made shivers scream down Isabelle's spine. There was just something about her that seemed off-balance and given who her partner was, that probably wasn't too far off from reality.

"Hello, Isabelle," Stahl greeted her calmly, pressing a half-hearted smile across her face. "I'm sorry to disturb you here, but it's very important that we speak...somewhere more private."

Isabelle frowned, barely finding the ability to speak, and nodded. As they made their way towards a more secluded hallway in the wing, she looked over her shoulder to see Half-Sack already speaking frantically into his prepay and a sigh of relief escaped her. There wasn't any time to ruminate on why she was suddenly more at ease knowing that as soon as Half-Sack's boss got word, he would come flying over here before the ATF even had a chance to make it down the elevator.

When they were standing across from each other in the near-deserted hallway, Isabelle crossed her arms defensively across her chest and braced herself for whatever was about to happen. Stahl seemed to sense that she needed at least one more moment to collect herself and graciously paused before tucking a lock of ashy blonde hair behind her ear.

"Isabelle," Stahl started slowly and suddenly, it felt like the hallway was sinking from underneath her. "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it. Jordan escaped from prison this morning. Now, I can't go into the specifics of his escape, but obviously, we're doing everything we can to find him as quickly and efficiently as we can."

Stahl paused for a moment and Isabelle blinked back at her, unable to process everything that just came tumbling out of her mouth. None of this made any sense to her...this couldn't be real. This couldn't be fucking true. How the fuck had this happened? He was supposed to be in prison for at least another four years before she even had to think about the possibility of him being paroled. But this...this wasn't even within the realm of possibility. How could this happen? For the last eight years, she'd felt moderately safe knowing that he was in prison where he belonged and now, that semblance of security had just been ripped right out from underneath her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All words failed her. All sense of reason evacuated completely.

"Other than finding him immediately," Stahl continued quietly. "Our primary concern is for your safety. We don't know yet if he's on foot or if he somehow obtained a vehicle, but we believe that his primary objective, other than escape, is to get to you somehow."

Isabelle felt the breath leave her lungs and her knees shook, buckling sharply as her entire body seemed to just give out on her. But there was no one there to steady her, no one there to catch her fall. Just as her body wobbled out from underneath her, she swallowed back the bile rising up in her throat, squeezed her eyes shut, and then exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, Stahl and her cronies were staring back at her like they were waiting for the inevitable eruption, but there was no fucking way she was going to let that happen now. Inhaling sharply, she steeled herself against the onslaught assaulting her mind and turned her attentions back to the people standing in front of her.

"How…" she stuttered and somehow found her voice. "How did this happen? What, did he tunnel through the goddamn wall or something?"

Stahl shook her head sadly. "Even if I knew the details, Isabelle, I still couldn't tell you. Besides, it's probably better that you don't know. Look, we're not here to scare you; we're here to do everything in our power to make sure that you're safe. I know that you're here to be with your father, but we really need to get you in protective custody as soon as possible and-"

"No," Isabelle shook her head immediately. "No way."

Confusion etched on her face, Stahl leaned forward like she hadn't understood. "Excuse me, but I'm not quite sure wha-"

"What exactly does protective custody mean, Agent Stahl?" Isabelle cut in sharply.

Stahl sighed and pushed some hair back behind her ears again. "It means that you stay in a safe house with guards until we find Jordan."

There was nothing about that that appealed to her. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Isabelle," Stahl pushed out roughly. "It is imperative that you allow us to help you-he won't hesitate to try to find you the first chance he gets."

"I thought you weren't here to scare me," Isabelle shot back.

Stahl stepped closer to her, lowering her voice as she dipped her head down to Isabelle. "Look, you and I both know what Jordan is capable of-"

"Absolutely," Isabelle cut in. "Because I don't need a fucking reminder that Jordan kidnapped me for two days and raped me, right?"

The other woman blinked back at her, completely stunned into silence, which was a small victory where Special Agent Stahl was concerned. And then, as Isabelle stood across from these agents, one she barely knew and two she'd never seen before in her life, she realized that that was the first time she'd said those words out loud in almost six years. After a while, she avoided the words at all cost in therapy, referring to the entire ordeal as "it" or "what happened to me". But in light of the circumstances, that short burst of anger and frustration had felt good. Almost like some of the mounting weight on her shoulders had just gotten a tiny bit lighter.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Stahl stuttered fruitlessly.

"Forget it," Isabelle waved her off with a bitter laugh. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. I'm not gonna sit in a random house somewhere in some random city with some random Feds sitting outside my window. Sorry...thanks, but no thanks."

"You can't leave yourself unprotected," Stahl admonished her with a shake of her head. "It's too dangerous."

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest in defiance and stared back at the stern woman in front of her. In a split second decision, she almost couldn't believe the words tumbling out of her mouth. "So, I'll stay at the clubhouse. Trust me, I'll be much safer there than I would ever be with you."

Stahl lifted her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head incredulously. "Of course; why am I not surprised? Look, I know you think Jax can protect you, but you need to be as far away from here as possible. You know that if Jordan figures out you're not in LA, the next place he's going to look is Charming."

"I'm done with this," Isabelle spat back at her, furious that this conversation had gone on as long as it did.

She moved to step around them and back towards the main hallway on that wing, but Stahl held her arms out to stop her.

"Isabelle, wait. You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and do things differently. There were so many things I missed, so many things I pretended not to see, and I will never forgive myself for the role I played in what happened to you. But you cannot let your feelings about me get in the way of your safety."

"Sorry," Isabelle responded hotly. "But I'm not going anywhere with you and your friends. End of story."

"Isabelle, wait...oh, Jesus Christ," Stahl exhaled, looking at something from over Isabelle's head. "You've got to be fucking kidding. Looks like your cavalry's here."

Isabelle's head whipped around and almost immediately, she sighed a breath of relief at the sight of the two figures walking towards them. Everything was going to be alright now.

* * *

"Listen, brother, we don't know what's goin' on here," Opie murmured with a sideways glance as the elevator doors opened. "So, try not to fly off the handle right away, alright?"

Jax clenched and unclenched his fists at his thighs in a flailing grasp on control. "If they're fucking harassing her, I don't think I can make any promises, Ope."

When Opie just sighed heavily next to him, Jax knew better than to think much of it. Ever since the prospect had called him with the news that three Feds were talking to Isabelle at the hospital and that one of them happened to be a woman with long blonde hair, his mind had been otherwise preoccupied. The club had had no idea the Feds were in Charming-the last time was a few years ago when a fresh new batch of ATF agents came sniffing around, but ultimately found nothing. There was absolutely no reason for those motherfuckers, especially fucking Stahl, to be back in town and they had even less reason to be bothering Isabelle at the hospital right now.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to put his fist through a wall. If only that would take care of the problem.

As they rounded the corner, the prospect fell into step behind them and several long strides later, Isabelle, Stahl, and two other Feds he didn't recognize came into view. He didn't give a shit about the other three people standing in the hallway; his focus rested solely on the only person, save for his son, that he cared about more than himself, his club, and his mother combined.

It had been a week since he'd laid eyes on her and in that week, he'd found himself practically crawling the walls of the clubhouse to keep himself from busting out of there to see her somehow. Now that she was standing less than ten feet away from him, her pale, shaken face was all he could zero his attention on, given the circumstances.

He wouldn't let himself focus on the fact that she looked visibly relieved to see him or that he could've sworn he heard her exhale his name as they strode up to the gathering in the hallway. As he and Opie positioned themselves directly between Isabelle and the three agents, he couldn't stop himself from ghosting his hand down Isabelle's back; it was just pure reflex and an old habit that, even after all this time, he'd never be able to shake. Protecting her, in any way he could, was just second nature for him.

When his hand made contact with her back, Isabelle's chin lifted up to face him and he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Whatever was happening here wasn't good; the evidence of that was written all over Isabelle's beautiful, ashen face.

"Nice to see you again, Jax," Stahl started with a faux-amiable tone. Given their history, there was palpable hostility between them and Jax shifted narrowed eyes to the blonde agent a few feet away from them.

"Let's save the niceties, huh? Anybody gonna tell me what's goin' on here?" Jax shot back at her, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke.

He felt Isabelle tense next to him as Stahl sighed and lifted a shoulder in resignation.

"Jordan escaped from prison," Stahl informed him quietly.

As all the breath left his lungs, his eyes automatically flew to Isabelle, who was trying so hard to stay strong, biting down on her quivering lip to keep from crying, and a million thoughts flashed through his mind all at once. Pure rage slid down his spine, curling all the way around to his hands, and he clenched them into tight fists at his hips to restrain himself.

Someone was gripping his bicep, probably Opie, to keep him in place, but all he could focus on was that this wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He and Salazar had their plans all mapped out, but that wasn't supposed to be in play for another four years until that fucker got paroled.

"How the fuck did this happen?" he growled.

Stahl's eyes darted anxiously from him to Isabelle and back to him and she just shook her head. "You know I can't give you those details. We're here to take Isabelle into protective custody until we can-"

"You've gotta be kidding me," Jax cut in hotly, shifting his body in front of Isabelle.

Stahl blew out an exasperated breath and motioned with her head towards Half-Sack. "Do you maybe wanna take Isabelle to get some coffee?"

Jax looked over his shoulder at the prospect, who was awaiting his orders with barely concealed agitation, and then nodded to him. Isabelle didn't need to be subjected to the ensuing debate and he figured that, if she was out of earshot, Stahl might actually unload some much-needed information about Jordan's escape. Isabelle seemed to hesitate to fall in line, but when his hand resumed its place on her back, gently guiding her where he wanted her to go, she lifted her eyes up to his for only a second before following the prospect with a tight nod.

He shot her a reassuring smile, letting her know that he was going to take care of everything, and watched her retreating form head down the hallway with Half-Sack. Then he shifted his attention back to the agents in front of them, grateful that his VP was right at his side.

"I think now is a good time for you to tell me what you know, Stahl," he leveled his gaze on her as he spoke.

Stahl's bitter laugh rang out and she shook her head. "I already told you-"

"You and I both know I'm gonna find out what happened one way or another, so you might as well enlighten me now. Besides, if your priority here really is to keep her safe, then you see the necessity in giving me all the facts. Wouldn't want me to think you plan on using her as bait, right?"

He waited while she stared blankly back at him and dug into his back pocket for his foil sleeve of Nicorette gum. After popping a piece out of the package and into his mouth, Stahl was shaking her head and holding a hand up in defeat. At the very least, she was smart enough to realize a lost cause when she saw one.

"That is absolutely _not_ what's happening here," Stahl started, staring back at him in disgust. "I would never do that to a victim, especially one who's gone through what she has, regardless of what you think of me."

Jax bristled at the word 'victim' and swallowed back the little bit of gratitude he felt towards Stahl that she didn't specify exactly what kind of victim Isabelle was. Then he shook it off and shrugged his shoulders in a silent challenge.

"So tell me what's really goin' on here, then."

Stahl glanced around him to make sure that Isabelle was really out of earshot and Opie quickly stepped in to shield Isabelle from her view. There wasn't time to acknowledge his VP's protective gesture because there were too many important details that needed to be shared. The more time they wasted now, the more time Jordan had to put more miles between them.

"I think it's for the best if Isabelle doesn't know what I'm going to tell you," Stahl informed them quietly.

"At least that's something we agree on."

She just shook her head again before continuing. "Jordan was being transferred from San Quentin to LA to testify in an old cold case we worked on almost ten years ago that just went to trial. We don't know exactly what happened yet, but the transport van was found ten miles away from the prison with three dead COs inside. We don't know if he found another vehicle or if he's on foot, but we do know that all three guards were missing their weapons. Like I told Isabelle a few minutes ago, other than finding him, our priority is her safety."

"Because he's stupid enough to try to find her," Jax surmised with a tight nod, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his composure cool and neutral.

"Yes, but," Stahl's voice grew more hushed as she continued to speak. "I just received a report on the contents of his cell and as soon as I found out, we came straight here."

He decided to set aside how Stahl had figured out that Isabelle was not, in fact, in LA, but here in Charming, because in his mind, it was really the lesser of the two evils.

"Picture after picture, Jax," she continued. "Every article that's ever been written about her. The most alarming one detailed the delay of her next gallery showing in LA so she can care for her sick father at an undisclosed facility. It's not going to take him long to figure out where that facility is located, Jax."

Part of him almost wished Stahl had kept that information to herself. While it was clear she'd wanted to emphasize her point that Isabelle was in serious danger, it wasn't like she'd needed to tell him that. No one needed to say what Jordan was capable of because they already knew. But now, knowing that sick fuck had continued stalking her behind bars sent his simmering rage into a full-out, rolling boil. And it was getting harder and harder by the second to keep his grip from slipping completely.

"Isabelle needs to be taken into protective custody," Stahl was saying now. "That's the only way she'll be safe."

Just like that, the wheels stopped turning and everything came to a screeching halt.

"No fucking way," he shot back.

Stahl took an aggressive step closer to him, her eyes glinting with something he couldn't quite place. "Didn't you hear what I just said, Jax? Not only is Jordan mentally ill, but a highly-trained Federal agent with a very specific skill set. Jordan can hack into any computer or any database he wants, knows how to stay off the grid, and buck the system-because he was fucking trained to catch criminals who do. The second he figures out that Isabelle is back in Charming, he won't hesitate to find her. And if your first priority really and truly is her safety, you should want her as far away from this town as goddamn possible."

He knew all of that about Jordan already. Eight years was a long time to let his hatred simmer and certainly enough time to do his research. Every record that was available on Jordan, he'd already seen and practically had memorized at this point, which had done nothing but motivate him further to his end goal.

"Isabelle is going to the clubhouse, where she will actually be safe from that fucker," he snarled, stepping even closer to her to reiterate his point.

"Look, Jax, I think it's very sweet you two are obviously still carrying a torch for each other. Isabelle wouldn't listen to me either and said the exact same thing you just did, but the fact of the matter is she will not be safe in Charming, no matter where she is."

Jax's lips curled back as he barked out a bitter laugh. "She's going into protective custody over my fucking dead body. And if she already told you she wants to come to the clubhouse, then you don't have a fucking leg to stand on."

Finally admitting that there would be no further discussion of this matter, Stahl threw her hands up in defeat. She rummaged through her bag and finally produced a folder, thrusting it at him with contempt.

"Sign this," she demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "It says that you're taking responsibility for her well-being and it absolves the federal government of any responsibility should something happen before Jordan can be found."

"So I can't sue them," Isabelle's quiet voice echoed from behind them.

Jax looked over his shoulder at the sound of her voice and found her already standing between him and Opie, ready to sign the document Stahl had given him. Just the fact that she trusted him like this, when she had every reason not to, was enough to momentarily derail the hostility brewing inside him.

After the paperwork was signed and dated, Stahl snapped the folder shut and shoved it back into her bag. Then she lifted her narrowed black eyes directly on Isabelle. "You're making a mistake."

"No, I'm not," Isabelle replied with steely confidence.

With one more shake of her head and an exasperated huff, Stahl gestured with her head towards the two agents next to her, signalling to them that it was time to leave. As they ventured down the hallway towards the elevator, Stahl turned her head one last time to call over her shoulder: "I'm letting do this your way, Jax. That's only going to take you so far."

The hidden meaning in her words wasn't lost on him. It was just a thinly veiled warning to stay out of their business and let them find Jordan. Fuck if that was happening. Stahl had a better chance of getting Isabelle into protective custody than finding Jordan before he did.

He just nodded to her, even though he had no intention of actually following her advice, and couldn't have been more grateful to see the elevator doors close in front of her.

"I never wanna see that woman again," Isabelle murmured next to him.

"You and me both, Iz," he agreed and turned to find her watching him with wide, glassy eyes. "Do you need to grab anything from your dad's room before we go to the clubhouse?"

"Just my purse."

"Okay," he nodded. "Grab it and we'll be here waitin' for ya, okay?"

After she disappeared into her dad's hospital room, Jax dove into business mode and started barking out orders.

"Get Juice on the phone," he told Opie in clipped whispers. "Tell him to start looking into whatever he can find out about Jordan."

Then he turned his attention to the prospect. "Get your ass to the clubhouse and start cleaning out that dorm at the end of the hallway. I don't care how many hangarounds or croweaters you gotta drag in there with you, but that room better be fuckin' spotless by the time we're done with church."

Brief panic flashed across the prospect's face and then he was nodding immediately, ready to jump into action at his president's beck and call. After he scrambled off to get to work, Isabelle appeared at his side with her purse in hand and a grim expression on her face. They walked to the elevator in silence with Opie right on their heels, speaking in rapid-fire fragments to bring Juice up to speed as quickly as possible.

With Isabelle tucked into the elevator next to his shoulder, it was difficult to keep his hands to himself. As much as he wanted to reach out and touch her, this just didn't seem like a very appropriate time. If she seemed scared, he might have been able to talk himself into it, but she was standing next to him with her head held high, poised and ready to step through the doors and out into the sunlight.

He couldn't help but admire her strength; even the face of something so ugly and horrifying as this, she had somehow managed to keep her composure, which was more than he could say for himself. But when they ventured out into the parking lot and directly towards where his and Ope's bikes were parked, her steps seemed to falter only slightly. The pieces fell right into place for her as she seemed to realize instantaneously whose bike she was going to be riding to get to the clubhouse.

But, much to his surprise, that was the only hesitation he found. So he figured his only real option here was to follow her lead and silently passed her his helmet. Once she was settled on the back of his bike, he swung his leg around the side and hopped on. He didn't allow himself to savor the feel of her lean arms wrapped around his waist or how his entire body jumped in response to the way she leaned her chin into the back of his shoulder. Spending any time deliberating what that meant for either of them just didn't matter in a situation like this.

Because when everything was said and done, she would never have been this close to him this way if not for fucking Jordan.

By the time they rolled into the clubhouse with Opie right behind him, Jax had managed to get a strong enough grip to slide completely into club business mode and didn't waste any time to help Isabelle hop off his bike and hustle into the clubhouse. With his hand lightly resting on her back to guide her inside, he didn't question his motives right now for touching her. This was about keeping her safe as much as it was about club business-she just wasn't exactly privy to that information.

He led her to a stool at the bar and motioned with his head to Ratboy, another prospect, behind the bar. "Yo, Rat, grab something for Iz to write with, a'ight?"

Rat scrambled around behind the bar before producing a pen and notepad and setting it gingerly in front of Isabelle at the bar.

"I need you to make a list of anything you need, okay, Iz?" he told her, his hand resting on her back again like glue. "Whatever you need from your dad's house, anything else-food, whatever-put it on the list and Gemma will bring it over here, alright?"

She nodded tightly and her fingers inched out to take the pen. Less than a beat later, her deep blue eyes turned to him and her warm fingers ghosted over his hand, squeezing for just a moment.

"Thank you, Jax," she whispered.

He knew she wasn't just talking about his arrangements to get her things to the clubhouse, but there would be time to address that later. So, instead, he nodded tightly and started backpedalling away from the bar, feeling his heart twist with every step that took him further away from her.

"Just sit tight here, Iz," he told her as he headed back towards the chapel. "We gotta hash out some shit in church and then your room should be ready."

He waited long enough to see her bite down on her lip and nod before turning on his heel to head towards the chapel.

* * *

When Jax was seated at the head of the table, he found the expectant, tense faces of his brothers staring back at him. Thanks to Opie and Juice, word about this newest development had spread like wildfire and he'd barely needed to do anything to assemble the various parts needed to put what needed to be done in motion. It was moments like this that made his time, dedication, and hard work pay off because when he needed them, his brothers were ready and willing to back him.

He nodded to Juice as he perched a toothpick between his lips in an effort to curb his sudden need for a hit of nicotine. Without missing a beat, Juice tossed down a folder, signalling that he'd at least gotten something that could be shared with the Redwood.

"Alright," he pounded the gavel as he spoke. "I think we all know why we're here right now, so I'll make this quick. Stahl made it very clear that Jordan's gonna be after Isabelle the first chance he gets-that fucker had been stalking her from the inside and knows she's not in LA right now. Now, she wouldn't tell me the exact details of what happened, but she did say that the three guards he killed were all missing their weapons, and I'd be willing to bet my left nut that the Feds have no fucking clue how Jordan got away. I know this wasn't what we had planned, but those plans were also working off the notion that Jordan would be in for at least 12 years."

"We got ya, bro," Tig told him from his side of the table. "That cocksucker ain't gonna get anywhere near your girl."

"She's family," Opie concurred quietly. "Whatever you need, whatever she needs, the club is gonna be behind you 100 percent."

Clay blew out a puff of heavy cigar smoke across from him and tipped his chin. "Besides, even if she wasn't, the club still owes her for keepin' quiet about Salazar's dead girlfriend all those years ago."

When similar sentiments passed around the rest of the table, Jax couldn't stop the wide, grateful grin that spread across his lips. While he'd had no doubt that the action they needed to take concerning Jordan would require zero discussion, he had anticipated at least a little deliberation on the right course of action with the Feds now involved. On that note, he gestured to Juice so they could find out what the Feds did and didn't know.

"I went through the files we had on Jordan and cross-checked a few things that didn't add up," Juice began, motioning to the folder he'd previously thrown to the center of the Redwood. "I grabbed the names of the three dead COs from a report that was filed almost two hours ago and ran a background check on all three. Turns out, one of the those COs, Jason Lang, made it all the way through the recruitment process in the same class as Jordan, but failed his special agent exam."

"So they had to have known each other," Jax deducted quickly, folding his hands in front of him at the table.

"I think it's too much of a fuckin' coincidence, ya know?" Juice nodded grimly. "I don't know how that guy did it, but he's out there somewhere when he should be knee-deep in prison concrete."

"What about this trial he was being called to testify for?" Opie asked. "You find anything on that?"

Juice shook his head. "Not right now; that shit's locked up pretty tight, but I should be able to unlock it in a day or two."

"Well, we don't have much time to sit around with our thumb's up our asses," Clay added from the end of the table. "This asshole is smart. We all know that. My guess is he's about twenty miles from where anybody expects him to be already and he's just gettin' started. The longer he's out there, the more chance he's got at findin' someone to help him, if he hasn't already."

"So I think we just move forward with the plan we put into play eight years ago," Jax shrugged and rolled the toothpick around in his lips. "We bring Salazar up to speed and then have a sit-down with Alvarez and Laroy to get them on board as soon as possible. We find him and then the plan's right on track."

"You sure you still wanna bring Salazar in on that?" Clay called out to him. "Not too late to change your mind."

Jax just lifted a shoulder, not needing to even really consider it. "We made an agreement when he was in prison and I gave him my word."

He'd decided long ago that Salazar deserved his retribution just as much as he did. If anything, the mercy Jax had shown to Salazar in the wake of Isabelle's double-kidnapping served more as a constant reminder that the situation could've been worse. Isabelle was alive and able to live the life she deserved. The same could not be said for Luisa. And because of that, Jax had never been able to shove away the empathy he felt for Salazar's guilt and remorse for the role he'd played.

There was no contest to his last comment and with no other business to attend to, Jax slammed the gavel down so that they could keep working on the moving parts already in place. Once again, it was difficult to keep the rush of relief at bay. He hadn't once needed to voice his concern for Isabelle's safety, the necessity of her stay in the clubhouse, or his unbridled drive to deliver everything Jordan had coming to him.

And as he followed the rest of his club out of the chapel, the reason behind just about every one of his moves for the last eight years was staring right back at him.

* * *

After writing the name "Cooper" in big letters and then scribbling some random items onto the paper the prospect set in front of her, Isabelle released a deep sigh and rubbed her temples. Waving away another offer from the prospect to pour her a drink, she really wished she could actually take him up on that, but she was trying to hold out for as long as possible. There was a strong possibility she was going to need a sleeping pill tonight and if that was really the case, alcohol just wasn't in the cards.

And it definitely didn't help that this particular prospect was making her very uncomfortable. She wasn't entirely sure if it was just the situation or the fact that she was currently alone in the clubhouse without a familiar face in sight, but the way this prospect appraised her was enough to make her fidget anxiously in on the bar stool. There was too much swimming around in her head right now and she didn't even want to begin sifting through everything that had gone down today.

So, a breath of relief pushed itself from her lungs when Jax materialized from the chapel. He only broke eye contact with her long enough to tilt his head to listen to what Half-Sack was telling him and a few moments later, he was back en route to stand right in front of her. That lop-sided grin she loved so much slipped across his lips and those familiar stirrings in the pit of her stomach were becoming difficult to ignore.

"Hey, Iz," he called out to her softly and then gestured with his head towards the hallway. "Your room's ready."

"Okay," she murmured, holding out her list to him. "Here you go."

He slipped the paper from her fingers and scanned over it before his eyes darted back to hers with a frown. "You sure this is all you need?"

Isabelle just shrugged. "Yeah. I'm not gonna be here forever, right?"

Pain flickered across his face only for a moment and then it was gone, replaced by the impassive mask she'd grown accustomed to since returning to Charming.

"Right," he affirmed hoarsely.

Without any other hesitation, he passed the list to Half-Sack with strict instructions to get it to Gemma and have Isabelle's things back to the clubhouse in an hour. Then, he motioned with his head for her to follow him through the clubhouse and into the hallway. She fell into step behind him, holding her breath as they passed his dorm, and almost ran right into his back when he halted in front of the door at the end of the hallway.

"Here we go," he whispered.

She bit her lip to muffle her grin at his obvious nervousness. It was clear he didn't completely trust that his prospect had followed through and he poked his head into the room before holding the door open all the way to prove it.

"After you," he gestured towards the entryway as he held the door open for her.

The room wasn't anything special and she knew it technically wasn't supposed to be. These rooms were typically reserved for prospects and, sometimes, guests of the club for short-term stays, which explained why it was so much smaller than how she remembered Jax's dorm. As she moved to the bed and tossed her purse down onto it, Jax ducked into the bathroom to inspect Half-Sack's handiwork and stepped back out into the main room just as she sank down into the mattress.

"So, the kitchen is-"

"I know, Jax," she interjected softly. "I've been here before, remember?"

He swallowed tightly and chewed in the inside of his cheek. "Right...look, I know it's not much, but I guess it's just gonna have to work for now, right?"

"It's fine, Jax...really, I can't thank you enough for every-"

"Don't worry about it, Iz," he cut in quickly, an easy smile curling up into his lips. "It was never up for debate anyway."

She grinned back at him, in spite of the shitty circumstances, and swallowed back the butterflies leaping through her stomach when he gingerly sank down on the bed, careful to put several feet of distance between them.

"Look," he started slowly. "I know all this shit is pretty crazy right now, but I will promise you now that I'm never gonna let him get within 20 miles of you. He's never gonna be a threat to you ever again."

There was no part of her that doubted that promise and she couldn't allow herself to think about what all of that exactly meant, of what he planned on doing, even though all of her instincts screamed the answer at her. Maybe, at least right now, she was better off with as little information about that as possible.

"I know, Jax," she replied with no hesitation. "I trust you."

As far as she was concerned, she had no reason not to. The fact that her first instinct after being confronted with this new reality was to turn to Jax was not something she could take lightly. But it was also something she couldn't ruminate on just yet. As much as being in such close proximity to Jax for an unforeseen amount of time scared the shit out of her, there was really nowhere else she wanted to be right now. And just that realization alone was enough to ensure another sleepless night, with or without the aid of a sleeping pill.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and pressed a pained smile onto his lips. "Here's how this is gonna work. I think it goes without saying that you gotta stay in the clubhouse until I get this taken care of. l really don't want you goin' outside, but I know you're gonna fight me on that anyway, so as long as someone's with you...but you gotta stay on the club's property, okay?"

It wasn't really okay...but she didn't need him to remind her what happened the last time she bucked the club's protection. That was one mistake she was never making again.

"Okay, Jax."

He seemed visibly relieved that she hadn't protested, and as much as part of her absolutely hated these restrictions, she knew they were a necessity, that he wasn't doing it to torture or control her.

"Tomorrow, I'll set you up with one of my Glocks," he held out a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to respond. "I know what you're gonna say, Iz, but we gotta do everything we can to protect you and this is one thing that we gotta do."

She rolled her eyes with a huff and dug into her purse with her left hand. When she pulled out her revolver, his eyebrows flew into his forehead and his jaw hung open on its hinges.

"I was gonna say, if you'd let me get a word in, that it's not necessary."

He gently slid the revolver out of her hand and she had to smile at how dwarfed her tiny revolver looked in his hand.

"You know how to use this thing?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Isabelle stared back at him exasperatedly and, catching her drift, he held up a hand in defense with a chuckle.

"So, a Smith & Wesson, huh? Is this a Bodyguard?"

"Yep."

"9 mm or a .38 special?"

She knew he was testing her knowledge a little and lifted her eyes to the ceiling yet again. "It's a 38, Jax."

He shot her a wide, proud grin. "I gotta say, Iz, it's pretty badass."

"Yeah, well," she laughed. "The guy who sold it to me tried to get me to buy a semiautomatic first, but I couldn't get that slide thing back into place, so I don't know how badass that really is."

His lips twisted and a moment later, his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Very funny, huh? Laugh it up."

"You know," he wiped his eyes as he spoke. "I can almost picture you tryin' to get one of those locks back."

He pantomimed pulling back the slide on an imaginary handgun, laughing the entire time, and then pretended to fumble with that same pretend semiautomatic.

"Shut it," she shot back.

"Maybe tomorrow you should show me what you can do with that thing," he grinned at her and then held the revolver back out to her. "I take it this thing is registered and everything?"

"Of course."

"You can keep this in here 'cause it's yours, but I'm still gonna give you one of my Glocks. If you should need to actually fire a gun, it can't be somethin' that can be traced back to you...you know that, right?"

She nodded dejectedly, hating that Jordan was taking one more thing away from her, even if it was just a little thing. Just knowing that tiny revolver was in her purse and so easily accessible at all times gave her a sense of security that was completely different from the one that Cooper gave her.

Now, Jax was holding out his empty hand to her and she frowned back at him.

"Can I have your phone, Iz?'

"Wait a minute, you can't-"

"Relax, Iz, I'm not gonna confiscate it or anything. You're not a prisoner here. I just need your phone for a second, okay?"

With a resigned sigh, she dug her phone out of her purse and passed it to him, but she was not prepared to see him start punching some numbers into it before passing it right back to her.

"I got a new prepay since…" he trailed off and rubbed his hands anxiously against his jeans. "Anyway, you need anything, all you gotta do is ask, Iz. I'm gonna try to stay at the clubhouse as much as I can, so hopefully, you won't have to use it."

"You don't have to do that, Jax. I mean...with Abel being home now and everything and I know you'll keep plenty of people around at the clubhouse at all times. You don't have to babysit me, Jax."

His blue eyes seared into her and she couldn't have moved if she tried. "That's not what this is."

"I know."

Rubbing his mouth again, he nodded tightly and then his calloused hand was grazing her shoulder. "Everything's gonna be okay, Iz. I'm never gonna let anything happen to you."

A brief smile flashed across her face and every fiber of her being believed him. Now that she was here, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. She was safe here in this fortress surrounded by concrete and motorcycles. Safe here with the club. And safe here with Jax.

That was enough for now.

* * *

**A/N-So, I need to apologize for taking so long to get this posted. If you read the new story I posted last week, "Lost and Found", you probably already know that I ran into a major plot issue with this story that I needed to iron out. I was originally going to have Jordan get paroled, which, after doing a little more research, realized that there was no way that would happen in real life (at least not four years early) given the crime he was in prison for. It was more likely for him to actually escape from prison than be paroled that early-crazy, right? So, I had to go back to the drawing board with my outline for this story, since changing that one detail had a sort of ripple effect on the rest of the plot. I actually like this better anyway, since things are a little more dramatic now, you know?**

**That being said, I've got everything all figured out now and this story is back on track. I'm sure you guys want more details on Jordan's escape and those are definitely coming in the next chapter. Also, we'll see the effects of Jax and Isabelle being in such close quarters at the clubhouse, which just adds to the slow burn we've got going here. **

**Thank you so much for being patient with my plot issues and with this slow burn. I know it can get frustrating, but I really appreciate everyone who's stuck around to see this through to the end. Let me know what you thought of this new chapter; I always love hearing your thoughts/comments/predictions. Thanks again!**


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